Breathturn into Timestead (19 page)

agresses, what is ever

more impenetrably yours—,

you push everything

into his aura,

the quantum courage

bitters itself in,

watchful:

it knows that you know.

 

 

F
ALLING ROCKS
behind the beetles.

There I saw one, he didn't lie,

home-standing into his desperation.

As the solitude-storm did for you

so does wide-striding silence

succeed for him.

 

 

I
STRIDE ACROSS
your treason,

anklets clasping

all Being-

articulations,

crumghosts

calf

from your glass-

tits,

my stone came to you,

selfdebarred, you otter-

cargoed,

inside

you hurt yourself

lifting my lightest pain,

you become visible,

a, any, dead one, all for himself,

changes tack.

 

 

L
IGHTRODS
, whose

conversation,

on traffic islands,

with armory-delights finally

given leave,

meanings

straddle the ripped-up pavement,

the chick

Time, putt, putt, putt,

slips into the octopus-nerve,

for treatment,

a tentacle grabs

the jutebag full of

decision marbles from the

ballocks-ZK,

up and down the dunggutter

comes the evidence.

 

 

O
NE READING BRANCH
, one,

feeding the forehead skin,

one light source, sleepily

swallowed by you,

passes the hungry

host-tissue,

visual aid, striated,

over moon scouring

backscatter-probes. On a large: on a small scale.

Earths, still and always, earths.

Cornea-covered

basalt,

rocket-kissed:

cosmic

circulation-gawking, and yet:

landlocked horizons.

Terrestrial, terrestrial.

One reading branch, one,

feeding the forehead skin—as if you wrote

poems—,

it comes to the postcard greeting,

back then, before

the bloodclotplace, on the lung-

threshold, yearward, from Pilsen,

yearover,

ensavaged from so much

pressed into muteness:

Bon vent, bonne mer,

a flickering

brainlobe, a

seapiece,

there, where you live,

its capital, the un-

occupiable.

 

 

T
EAR YOUR
dream from the launchpad,

pack your shoe into it,

mezery-eyed one, come,

lace it up.

 

 

C
HALK-CROCUS
, in

the clearing: your

wanted-poster-ripened

from-there-and-from-there-too,

unsplittable,

Explosives

smile at you,

the Dasein Dent

helps a flake

get out of itself,

in the treasure troves

the Moldau collects itself.

 

 

T
HE CABLES ARE
already laid

to the happiness behind you

and to its

munitioned

attack lines,

in the decongestion

cities

turned toward you,

where they vaporize health agents,

melodious

antitoxins

announce the racedriversprint

through your conscience.

 

 

I
N THE ACCESS HATCHES
to truth

the detectors pray,

soon the walls come flying

to the negotiation tables,

the emblems palaver

away the blood,

a crow sets

its half-faced

radar-wing to

halfmast.

 

 

A
ND NOW
, in a major strategic

situation, claw-

signed

conviction-tinsel,

a wordbraid, red-

lined,

sews itself to the mouths

all-baroque in the

wound-

silenced

commissure.

Breadmildewclarity

gives offense,

exhausted

ideas, what else,

set themslves against.

 

 

R
APIDFIRE-PERIHELION
.

Break in your dustmote,

you have to come along,

warns the flyer.

(You, acosmic, as I.)

A knödel's satellites, keen,

on the ghost-pawlatschen.

 

 

W
E THE OVERDEEPENED
, aloned

in the permafrost.

Every hanging valley carts a lid

toward the eye imprint

and its rock-

kernel.

 

 

B
EHIND THE TEMPLESPLINTERS
,

in the needfresh

woodwine,

(the place you come from,

it talks itself dark, southward),

dahliascared near gold,

on always cheerier

chairs.

 

 

R
ESCUE
of all

wastewater gurglings

in the poststamp-toad-

call. Cor-

respondence.

Euphorized

slowmotion choirs of cerebrized

future saurians

heat a selfheart.

Its

rejection, I winter

over to you.

 

 

T
HE DARKENED
splinterecho,

brainstream-

ward,

the portcullis over the meander

on which it comes to stand,

so much

unwindowed there,

just look,

the truss

of lazy fervor,

one

gunbutt blow from

the prayersilos,

one and not one.

 

 

E
TERNITY
stays within limits:

lightly, in its

powerful measure-tentacles,

deliberately,

the bloodsugar-pea, x-rayable

by fingernails,

rotates.

Timestead

I

Nomadforb, you catch yourself

one of the speeches,

the foresworn aster

joins up,

should someone who

shattered the songs

speak to the rod now,

his and everyone's

blinding

wouldn't happen.

 

 

Spiteful moons

sprawl and slobber

behind Nothingness,

com-

petent hope, the half of it,

switches itself off,

bluelight now, bluetight,

in bags,

misery, flambéed

in hard troughs,

a throwstone-game

saves the foreheads,

you roll the altars

timeinward.

 

 

G
OLD
, that extends

the nubian back of a hand—the way,

then the footpath toward you, on

over the stone, the beveled one,

from dreamwithdrawal-times,

two sand clods, windblown,

stand with me,

starinfested a moor wraps itself

around one of the pines,

the choir

of plane-tree trunks

kowtows ready for the prayer

against prayer,

from sealed driftwood

I build names for you, which

you peg close to the rainschemes,

the warcrickets shall come,

out of my beard,

in front of the thoughtgills already stands

the tear.

 

 

F
ROM THE SINKING WHALE FOREHEAD

I read you off—

you recognize me,

heaven

throws itself

on the harpoon,

sixlegged our star

hunkers down in the foam,

slowly

someone who sees it raises

the consolation morsel:

copulating Nothingness.

 

 

Y
OU OUTLIER

beyond yourself,

out beyond you

lies your fate,

white-eyed, escaped from

a dream, something joins it,

that helps

with the tongueuprooting,

even at noon, outside.

 

 

The silkbedecked Nowhere

devotes its duration to the beam,

I can see you

here.

To be received by you, and leave—

Under the sandhood steers

your unmonitered sleeping

brain

the unrealizable, single

oceanic

day,

come, I brighten,

come, I give you

to me and to you too,

overbred one,

heavy one.

 

 

The vineyardwall assailed

by eternity jingles,

the vines

mutiny,

jingles too

the marrow brain, at

heartswelter, in

the realer housing,

the five grains distributed

over the four seas,

dive in.

 

 

Only when I touch

you as shadow

do you believe me my

mouth,

that one clambers

with late-

meanings up there

in the timehalos,

you happen upon the host

of secondusers among

the angels,

the mutefurious

stars.

 

 

I
N THE REMOTEST

connotation, at the foot of the paralyzed

Amen-stairs:

the phase Being, plundered

bare,

nearby, in the gutter,

sayings still

noodle,

dreamfiberreinforced the profile

of the sleepexcretion,

at its single

heartactive temple

ice forms,

no book opens itself,

the Übernothing has

joined up with me,

it gives up its fight,

in the ice,

we are ready

to exchange the most deadly in us,

the thorn that gave the freesign

rises through the cradles,

behind the punch clock delusionsolid time

gives itself away.

 

 

I
NSERTED INTO

the emerald-trajectory,

larvaelag, starlag, with all

keels

I search for you,

unground.

 

 

All the sleepfigures, crystalline
,

that you adopted

in the speechshadow,

them

I supply with my blood,

the imagelines, they

I should salvage

in the slitveins

of my insight—,

my grief, I see now,

defects to you.

 

 

Two sightbulges, two

scarseams,

here too, straight across

the face,

a light, retrieved from

your first brands, a long

time outside,

slips into the

glimpsed.

 

 

B
EFORE MY

sheet lightning knee

the hand comes to stand,

that you

passed over your eye,

a jingling

gathers certainty

in the circle I drew

around us two,

sometimes, of course,

heaven dies

in advance of our

shards.

 

 

Y
OU THROW GOLD
after me,

drowning:

perhaps a fish

can be bribed.

Give me, death,

my pride.

 

 

The whisperhouse
,

open on leapday,

handed on

on jute, surface-

deep,

it naturalizes

the fricatives,

the lallation-stage

is taken care of

by the lip-

pegs,

—does the

other snap in,

on time?—

this, yes this

glacierscreaming

of your hands,

the network of the dead

helps to carry the firnice,

the moon,

poles reversed,

rejects you, second

earth,

at the restheaven, deathproud, the

starthrong

takes the hurdle.

 

 

L
ITTLE NIGHT
: when you

take me in, take me in,

take me up,

three woe-inches above

the ground:

all the sand-made dyingcoats,

all the helpnots

everything, that still

laughs

with the tongue—

 

 

T
O HUDDLE AGAINST

the instabilities:

two fingers

snap in the abyss, in the

rough books

world roars up, it is

up to you.

 

 

I
FOOL AROUND
with my night,

we hijack

all

that broke loose here,

you, load your

darkness too on

half my driving

eyes,

it too shall hear it,

from everywhere,

the irrefutable echo

of every opacity.

 

 

Y
OUR CLOCKFACE
, over-

layered with

bluefires,

gives away its numbers,

my

provenance

looked around, it goes

into you, the co-

joined

crystals

bawl.

 

 

I
PILOT YOU
behind the world,

there you are at home, unflinching,

cheerfully

the starlings survey death,

the canebreak dismisses the stone, you have

all

you need for tonight.