Боги. Новые создания
Шрифт:
Air
You parade thru the soft summer
We watch your eager rifle decay
Your wilderness
Your teeming emptiness
Pale forest on verge of light
decline.
More of your miracles
More of your magic arms
Bitter grazing in sick pastures
Animal sadness the daybed
Whipping.
Iron curtains pried open.
The elaborate sun implies
dust, knives, voices.
Call out of the Wilderness
Call out of fever, receiving
the wet dreams of an Aztec King.
The banks are high and overgrown
rich w/warm green danger.
Unlock the canals.
Punish our sister's sweet playmate distress.
Do you want us that way w/the rest?
Do you adore us?
When you return will you
still want to play w/us?
Fall down.
Strange gods arrive in fast enemy poses.
Their shirts are soft marrying
cloth and hair together.
All along their arms ornaments
conceal veins bluer than blood
pretending welcome.
Soft lizard eyes connect.
Their soft drained insect cries erect
new fear, where fears reign.
The rustling of sex against their skin.
The wind withdraws all sound.
Stamp your witness on the punished ground.
Wounds, stags, arrows
Hooded flashing legs plunge
near the tranquil women.
Startling obedience fom the pool people.
Astonishing caves to plunder.
Loose, nerveless ballets of looting.
Boys are running.
Girls are screaming, falling.
The air is thick w/smoke.
Dead crackling wires dance pools
of sea blood.
Lizard woman
w/your insect eyes
w/your wild surprise.
Warm daughter of silence.
Venom.
Turn your back w/a slither of moaning wisdom.
The unblinking blind eyes
behind walls new histories rise
and wake growling whining
the weird dawn of dreams.
Dogs lie sleeping.
The wolf howls.
A creature lives out the war.
A forest.
A rustle of cut words, choking
river.
The snake, the lizard, the insect eye
the huntsman's green obedience.
Quick, in raw time, serving
stealth slumber,
grinding warm forests into restless lumber.
Now for the valley.
Now for the syrup hair.
Stabbing the eyes, widening skies
behind the skull bone.
Swift end of hunting.
Hug round the swollen torn breast
red-stained throat.
The hounds gloat.
Take her home.
Carry our sister's body, back
to the boat.
A pair of Wings
Crash
High winds of Karma
Sirens
Laughter young voices
in the mts.
Saints
the Negro, Africa
Tattoo
eyes like time
Build temporary habitations, games
chambers, play there, hide.
First man stood, shifting stance
while germs of sight
unfurl'd Flags in his skull
and quickening, hair, nails, skin
turned slowly, whirl'd, in
the warm aquarium, warm
wheel turning.
Cave fish, eels, gray salamanders
turn in their night career of sleep.
The idea of vision escapes
the animal worm whose earth
is an ocean, whose eye is its body.
The theory is that birth is prompted
by the child's desire to leave the womb.
But in the photograph an unborn horse's
neck strains inward w/legs scooped out.
From this everything follows:
Swallow milk at the breast
until there's no milk.
Squeeze wealth at the rim
until tile pools claim it.
He swallows seed, his pride
until w/pale mouth legs
she sucks the root, dreading
world to devour child.
Doesn't the ground swallow me
when I die, or the sea
if I die at sea?
The City: Hive, Web, or severed
insect mound. All citizens heirs
of the same royal parent.
The caged beast, the holy center,
a garden in the midst of the city.
"See Naples die".
Jump ship. Rats, sailors
death.
So many wild pigeons.
Animals ripe w/new diseases.