Saturday, February 11, 2012


I read the late Empress' letters & thought they were yours allforgetting Rex I am about to use my voice one sky over I ask if that house is real head and body and tail joined no nearer air than water alas the great daze of desire has passed and mirrors reflect the thick mud where armies have passed the hand that holds is webbed his whole insides protests water on stone hurting the ear to no longer repeat "the mirror is water" the poor dead hands are clean a ring of moon for tomorrow into the mirror sighed "such was I" a minor character was he history or was he not

In the time of great kings I hid this knife with a friend I'll play you it's record the next time we go for a walk seeing the funeral of grass a small tune can be heard when several of the branches creak there when benches are placed side by side as one might plan an audience the air is freed of our crimes come close to it now and listen you there at the entrance take from the dripping roof a cupful to drink while lightning pitches straw and trees glitter strangely crack the wide underground angels are in peril there on the rooftops tomorrow in the outraged sky where no one speaks English what clamors o'er the twain do you know what silence means? her face leaned backwards into the past those forms we see in gauze as arches without moonbeams without shoes the music was distinctly shady inky as were the drawings the fall of my voice would be dying brown the sky was white over Paris until it fell in the streets walk only in the white spaces in the steps where leaves lie and names erase them the treachery is cast by mirrors again, the ride that drift shrieks at low tide sweet voice of brine the magnificent sun waves a flag above it Republic of Space waving the gnats and the small giants no one complained

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