19
to reach the isle
picture the map of Turkey
the other way around
that will mark
what is not fundamental
but begins
the course of what may be
miracles even of un-goded gods
still so many
inside the poem as in a womb
being nourished:
crows for energetically chasing away
the reversal of Turkey
deep inside the undulous gulf of Neptune
contains the half-light left over from this light
whole
in what remains of the poem
one light after another on and on
in a dark mathematics
exact meridian
marooned world map where I repeat
and then, and then
as in a monolalic story
picture this body
the other way around
this poem
the other way around
to escape the isle
20
tonight belongs to the legion
to the hands in lace gloves
tall shadows gather around the fires
the smoke blurring the embellished forms in the flame
no footprints in the ice of tonight
though everyone has a face that hides a god
nurtured with wise anthropophagy
21
leaves fall
like poems sundered
while I dream
of some Divine piercing
my side
to extract the curved bone –burning light–
that plays
in this solitude so far from Eden
a game
where my tacit
ghost befalls
treading on loose leaves
that crunch under feet like marble
Enclosed
in your border
beside the autumn fire
that bony outline
recurs
in the trances of the medium
with transparent hands
the abandoned ouija!
letters in mauve ink!
the message weighs heavy in a lingua ignota
stiff
stiff message
where alphabet germinates inanimate
grows grows
yellowish backlit against my eyelids
open wound without blood
devastated marrow
in a flash of vegetal dryness
never-ending session of materializations
those hands no longer
vigorous and alerted
there
with my unlikeness confronted
ambitions of insomnia
bore into the thirsting cloak
that captures us as if rested
upon hearing those steps
still estranged from all else
It’s an!
heart transluminated
interrogating space
with formless questions¡
goldenrod season of origins
sun aslant warms the roots
in hollow walls
the lethal harmony in which we live made visible
the broad shadow of displacement invites us
matures the fruit
this dream’s steely grid sutures
my side with gentle hands
an avalanche of spirits
spells out zigzagging on the board
that message now dispensable
in their inflexible slumber the Bloodless stammer,
“This is the wonder of beginning”