Talitha cumi he said, You are not dead, she was only sleeping. The
air was hesitant about its choices. Saying your name while the boats
drifted on by.
Hesitate soldier, ring your name in the calendar. She picks up the
lost word finding the verb. It echos past her mouth. She licks his word.
He likewise licks a page with her reproductions, her babies. His heart is
beating very slowly now.
Now it flips over the page and sees a haze of colour. Maestro of
color he remembers. Now it links to other pictures and words from another
country. Where the braque chords played. Lorca and the dancer danger
and the girls of the country, their rosy cheeks. How can he love what he
has not seen? Is he Don Quixote? Is he Don Idiot? Is he Don Orfeo? Is he
her paramour of another planet? can she have compassion on a fool who
hurts her. She is rational and intentional and remembers words like
honour, words which he had forgotten. Or buried out of necessity and
disillusion. Now speaks the night for their garments and she plays the
body silk to him over the oceans and whales, the fish and dolphin, the
leviathans and sword fish. He is a singer in the deep city blue. While
colouring crayons play his fingers.
Sometimes he is mute. As death and the sepluchre. Oh bones of cold and
nigh nightime which might last many years, many a day.
Word burglar, smuggler of sexes and verb strikes, hit nouns
legend ways on the pathway, some how.
It breathes then. It speaks. Speaks the supple mail of hope and
design. Not meaning, but meaning and rings.
Now soft the word ring and she speaks
How can it breath when you are not air
Hair I have dreamt of and skin smelled
Body of hunger and face, body of lust
Oedipus plays on the edge of that rim
My heart memory stings when Prometheus
calls his name
Sad, he was sad sad - because no birthday
has his name, no song was thrust in his hand.
Sad - because many died his heart spoke
because the world was geography and not light
because there was nothing to do, and everything was you.
Wanting you, wanting even to be you,
I could not lie down like a woman, a man,
giving up in the snow,
like Anna praying for the dead body of her lover
All those years in the camps, all those madnesses
histories and nobilities.
I wait forever
Because because space is the siege which kills
the dog that barks the dog that kills
No hangman would walk half way to meet it.
So crystals hung in your energies
As you too listened inside the voice spoke
Hungry you said you were hungry your mouth hurt
putting words and words where food was meant to go.
Shovelling food where love
Wanted to land.
His arrow darts
The water sheets
Eurydice spoke Talitha cumi, he is not dead, but sleeping. And raised him
then, like rain rising from the earth. Eyes looking into the sky
slated and ready to love.
They were your words - I gave them to you, as I always did, your
gifts, always "pour toi" the fine laughters and the rough ones that
played, and brought me up out of the dead.
All lovers are bodies searching to meet.
In hotel and broken sky they speak
Until the day -
Hands speak at the momenting
Mounting their lover's hands and legs
Impregnable they gather silence and desire.
Like honey they taste it and always
Fall, and fall foreward heads locked.
Eyes smitten and heart smitten they are
tigers with lovers fingers
Garnering their kisses
Eternity guards them .
In that eternal night of the never met they speak. Like no one and
no one can.
And then they do meet. Landing in the street like other
lovers waking to light . Landing in the street from a long hard journey
and many years apart. Greeting - encounter - .
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