words
Posted: March 15th, 2009, 4:50 pm
(written around 2001 on the litkicks boards - cecil's "just you wait and see" thread made me remember and look for it in my files)
words bound to the world and
torn away from the breath and voice, words
your unfathomable hope
ark over a thousand floods
abundance of your voice, breath
forgetting the beautiful words
for the day and the sun, greater
than the window towards the world
full of frostwork, towards the light
opening your house to summer and roses, sun
giving you the word as a present: PARADISE
you can keep it
silence, your friend of night, brooding
over moonlight and wine, nettles to chew on,
wordless, worldless, your last companion
your sparkling kennel, starlit
and the whisper of wounded angels within
the poem is not the place where
death is warded off, where hunger is satisfied
it is salt, salt rubbed into wounds
when your house is resounding with rage and crying
and words bitten to pieces are preceding your muteness
barheaded words testifying the loss of time and earth
with lungs of frost and bleeding longings just before
the sleep of the tortured; honeymoons
painted on lips and eyelids while the train is incessantly moving
through a dark continent, a beautiful continent of words
and weed, lost in a cage of breaths and years; where
will you live? an echo between lines, dumb and prosaic
in undefinable rest, in silence where
the preybird of life is evading, devouring words
your name, your track, your black angel?
wings! wings!
the angel is falling, the feathers
are burning, separated and bleeding in the storm of history
the poem is not the place where beauty is cultivated, where
hope is transfigured, it is not the place where the angel is spared
when words are clinging to characters and letters,
to your breath, to your almost soundless voice,
and you are sending out your first and last word: LOVE
shouting after it: Seek salvation! Come back ! I am waiting!
a thousand times, and you are shaking, shaking off, shaking off ashes,
eyes full of ashes, shaking not willing to die
nor to be quiet, not now, and silence is asking
What is happening to the world? NOTHING
you say, nothing, only the shrew is rustling
in the mousetrap
words bound to the world and
torn away from the breath and voice, words
your unfathomable hope
ark over a thousand floods
abundance of your voice, breath
forgetting the beautiful words
for the day and the sun, greater
than the window towards the world
full of frostwork, towards the light
opening your house to summer and roses, sun
giving you the word as a present: PARADISE
you can keep it
silence, your friend of night, brooding
over moonlight and wine, nettles to chew on,
wordless, worldless, your last companion
your sparkling kennel, starlit
and the whisper of wounded angels within
the poem is not the place where
death is warded off, where hunger is satisfied
it is salt, salt rubbed into wounds
when your house is resounding with rage and crying
and words bitten to pieces are preceding your muteness
barheaded words testifying the loss of time and earth
with lungs of frost and bleeding longings just before
the sleep of the tortured; honeymoons
painted on lips and eyelids while the train is incessantly moving
through a dark continent, a beautiful continent of words
and weed, lost in a cage of breaths and years; where
will you live? an echo between lines, dumb and prosaic
in undefinable rest, in silence where
the preybird of life is evading, devouring words
your name, your track, your black angel?
wings! wings!
the angel is falling, the feathers
are burning, separated and bleeding in the storm of history
the poem is not the place where beauty is cultivated, where
hope is transfigured, it is not the place where the angel is spared
when words are clinging to characters and letters,
to your breath, to your almost soundless voice,
and you are sending out your first and last word: LOVE
shouting after it: Seek salvation! Come back ! I am waiting!
a thousand times, and you are shaking, shaking off, shaking off ashes,
eyes full of ashes, shaking not willing to die
nor to be quiet, not now, and silence is asking
What is happening to the world? NOTHING
you say, nothing, only the shrew is rustling
in the mousetrap
gracias for sharing the X-files!!!!!! 