Breathturn into Timestead (12 page)

“Tatararrows.”

                        “Artpap.”

                                        “Breath.”

All are coming, no one's missing.

(Siphets and probyls are among them.)

A man comes.

Worldapplesize, the teardrop beside you,

swept through, crossed

by answer,

                    answer,

                                  answer.

Iced-through—by whom?

“Pass,” you say,

                           “pass,”

                                        “pass.”

The quiet lepra peels off your palate

and fans light to your tongue,

                                                    light.

 

 

F
ROM BEHOLDING THE BLACKBIRDS
, evenings,

through the unbarred, that

surrounds me,

I promised myself weapons.

From beholding the weapons—hands,

from beholding the hands—the long ago

by the sharp, flat

pebble written line

—Wave, you

carried it hither, honed it,

gave yourself, un-

losable, up,

shoresand, you take,

take in,

sea oats, blow

yours along—,

the line, the line,

through which we swim, entwined,

twice each millennium,

all that singing at the fingers,

that even the through us living,

magnificent-unexplainable

flood does not believe us.

 

 

V

G
REAT, GLOWING VAULT

with the

outward- and away-

burrowing black-constellation swarm:

into the silicified forehead of a ram

I burn this image, between

the horns, therein,

in the singing of the coils, the

marrow of the curdled

heartseas swells.

What

doesn't he

butt against?

The world is gone, I have to carry you.

 

 

S
LATE-EYED ONE
, reached

by the striding counterscript the

day after the blinding.

Readable bloodclot-messenger,

hither-died, despite all,

carried by knowing barbedwire-wings

over the undisplaceable

thousand-wall.

You here, you: quickened

by the breath of the

names

caught in the free-

shoveled lungbranches.

To-

be-deciphered you.

With you,

on the vocalcords' bridge, in the

great Inbetween,

nightover.

Shot at with hearttones,

from all the world-pulpits.

 

 

O
OZY
, then

weedy silence of the shores.

The one sluice yet. At

the warttower, doused

with brackish,

you empty into.

Before you, in

the rowing giant sporangia,

as if words panted there, a

luster sickles.

 

 

Y
OU, THE
hair taken from

the lip with the bright-

seeing highsleep:

threaded through the goldeye

of the sung-aright ash-

needle.

You, the knot torn out

of the throat with

the One Light:

run through by needle and hair,

under way, under way.

Your reversals, incessantly, round

the seven-

fingered kisshand behind

happiness.

 

 

T
HE WITH HEAVENS HEATED

firefissure through the world.

The Who's there?–calls

inside it:

mirror-cast through you here

onto the shield

of the Eternal Bug,

sniffed around by False and Bewildered,

looping the unending loop, nevertheless,

which stays navigable for the un-

towed answer.

 

 

V
APORBAND-, BANDEROLE-UPRISING
,

redder than red,

during the great

frost-thrusts, on

sliding ice-bucklings, before

seal nations.

The beam hammered all

the way through you,

that writes here,

redder than red.

With its words

to shuck you out of the brainshell, here,

hastily buried October.

With you to coin the gold, now,

when it dies out of.

With you to assist the banderoles.

With you to moor the glasshard leaflet

to the blood-bollard, that

the earth pushed out

through this step-pole.

 

 

R
EST IN YOUR WOUNDS
,

blubbered out, lulled.

The round, small, the firm:

from the gazeniches it comes

rolling, nearby,

into no kind of cloth.

(It has

—Pearl, it was

so difficult through you—,

it has, diving, won the saltbush,

over there, in the Twosea.)

Without light it rolls, without

color—you,

stick the ivory needle through it

—who doesn't know

that the tigered stone, that jumped you,

rang out on it?—,

and so—whither fell earth?—

let it turn time-up,

with ten nailmoons on the towrope,

in serpent-nearness, at yellow-flood,

quasistellar.

 

 

VI

O
NCE
,

I did hear him,

he did wash the world,

unseen, nightlong,

real.

One and unending,

annihilated,

I'ed.

Light was. Salvation.

Threadsuns

I

E
YE-GLANCES
, whose winks,

no brightness sleeps.

Undebecome, everywhere,

gather yourself,

stand.

 

 

FRANKFURT, SEPTEMBER

Blind, light-

bearded partition.

A cockchaferdream

floodlights it.

Behind it, complaint-rastered,

Freud's forehead opens up,

the tear, hard-

silenced outside,

links on with the sentence:

“For the last

time psycho-

logy.”

The imitation

jackdaw

breakfasts.

The glottal stop

sings.

 

 

C
HANCE, MARKED
—the signs, unscattered,

the number, multiplied, unjustly flowered around,

the Lord someone fugitive-close, raining, who looks,

as lies seven-

                        blaze, knives

                                                 flatter, crutches

perjure themselves, U-

under

            this

                      world

the ninth already burrows,

                                                lion,

you sing the humansong

of tooth and soul, both

hardnesses.

 

 

W
HO

RULES?

Thronged by colors, life, harried by numbers.

The watch

steals its time from the comet,

the swords

fish,

the name

gilds the ruses,

the touch-me-not, helmeted,

ciphers the periods in the stone.

Pain, as slugshadow.

I hear, it won't become later.

Fay and false, in the saddle,

gauge this here too.

Globelamps instead of yours.

Lighttraps, border-idolatrish, instead

of our houses.

The black-diaphanous

juggler jaws

in lower

culmination.

The hard-won umlaut in the unword:

your reflection: the tombshield

of one of the wordshadows

here.

 

 

T
HE TRACE OF A BITE
in the nowhere.

It too

you have to fight,

from here on out.

 

 

I
N THE ETERNAL DEPTH
: the brick-

mouths

rave.

You blow up a prayer

before each.

Letterfaithful, on the emergency trail,

stand Up and Down,

the krater full of bubbly

brain.

 

 

V
ISIBLE
, by brainstem and heartstem,

undarkened, terrestrial,

the midnight marksman, mornings,

chases the twelvesong through

the marrow of treason and putrefaction.

 

 

D
ETOUR-

MAPS
, phosphorous,

far behind Here by sheer

ring-fingers beaten.

Travelluck, look:

The tripdart, two

inches from the target,

topples

into the aorta.

The shared goods, ten

hundredweight

folie à deux,

wake up

in the vultureshadow,

in the seventeenth liver, at the foot

of the stuttering

information mast.

Before it,

in the slated watershield, the

three standing whales

head the ball.

A right eye

flashes.

 

 

S
ACKCLOTH-MOLD
, tower-high.

Eye slot

for the destarred

at the end of the grief-fibril.

The eyelash-seam, at a slant

to the god-blazes.

In the mouthbay the place

for the rowing

Kaisertwitter.

The. And the Going-with-

him across smokeblue,

blank

tableland, you.

 

 

S
PASMS
, I love you, psalms,

the feeling-walls deep in the you-ravine

rejoice, seedpainted one,

Eternal, de-eternalized you are

eternalized, Uneternal, you,

hey,

into you, into you

I sing the bone-rod-incisions

Redred, far behind the pubic hair

harped, in the caves,

outside, all around

the unending none-whatsoever-canon,

you throw me the nine times

twined, dripping

eyetooth-circlet.

 

 

Y
OUR EYES IN THE ARM

the

asunder-burned,

to go on rocking you, in the fly-

ing heartshadow, you.

Where?

Arrange the place, arrange the word.

Extinguish. Measure.

Ash-brightness, ash-ell—swal-

lowed.

Mismeasure, unmeasure, misplaced, unworded,

unwo

ash-

hiccup, your eyes

in the arm,

always.

 

 

HENDAYE

The orange pepperwort,

stick it behind your forehead,

silence the barb out of the wire,

with which she flatters, even now,

listen to it,

for the span of an impatience.

 

 

PAU, BY NIGHT

The immortality cypher, by Henry

the Fourth rocked in

to tortoise-nobility,

sneers eleatically

behind itself.

 

 

PAU, LATER

In the corner of

your eyes, stranger,

the Albigenses-shadow—

after

the Waterloo-Plein,

toward the orphaned

raffia shoe, toward

the also bartered Amen,

into the eternal

housegap I

sing you:

so that Baruch, he who never

weeps,

may grind aright

all around you the

angular,

ununderstood, seeing

tear.

 

 

T
HE STALLION
with the flowering wick,

levitating, at pass-

height,

comet brilliance on

the rump.

You, in the con-

spirationary torrents un-

locked, the

bouncing breasts in the sharp

verse-fibula-yoke,

fall with me through

images, rocks, numbers.

 

 

T
HE OUNCE OF TRUTH
deep inside delusion,

past it

the trays of the balance

roll,

both together, in conversation,

the law, raised in struggle to heart-

level,

son, wins.

 

 

I
N THE NOISES
, like our beginning,

in the ravine,

where you fell to me,

I wind it up again, the

musical box—you

know: the invisible,

the

inaudible one.

 

 

LYON, LES ARCHERS

The iron spike, reared,

in the brickniche:

the co-millennium

instranges itself, unconquerable,

follows

your driving eyes,

now,

with glances cast here by dice

you wake, who is beside you,

she becomes heavier,

heavier,

you too, with all

the instrangedness in you,

instrange yourself,

deeper,

the One

string

tenses its pain between you,

the missing target