This is the only safe place to tell
whisper it in the reeds
but symmetry is public:
it’s form that publishes
hand famous on your thigh
too young to care about the paparazzi
but Moses in the bullrushes
and the fatedness of hearing anything.
Heart a shofar in the ears, piercing any word
the complaints come unlodged from the eaves
puta madre every winter the nails
still think oh Susanna, our old testament
aloofness all that waiting, to pierce speech
is the moment we’re born the cities already built
already old before the talking ass could tell you.
Don’t go. Don’t go anywhere.
Shofar on the far side of words,
wake up the trees, stand still and watch
knives in their hands the trees lurch forward
words come alive when the books are sealed:
speech unfolds in you sounds lighter than speech.
The trees stand armed though me that would never die
and what is understanding
but Franklin Ave. wild with ram’s horn
sound of heart piercing heart trees stand through the air
campfires clumps of skin aglow through the neighborhood:
where the rest of Being meets, in rifts, trees, irrational
numbers break open through the city, o desperado
to hear anything is to hear it in Death Valley
now kill your horse and be free Phacelia & Desert Gold;
tree stabbing tree, a Mass whose lion need no longer be seen.
(afterthought:
ALTAFORTE
IV
And I love to see the sun rise blood-crimson.
And I watch his spears through the dark clash
And it fills all my heart with rejoicing
and pries wide my mouth with fast music
When I see him so scorn and defy peace,
His lone might ‘gainst all darkness opposing.
No comments:
Post a Comment