Let us talk, let us speak words
long, translucent words
like chisels that break apart
the cold river from the hot delta
day from night
stone from stone.
Take me happiness upwards
and crush my temple against the stars
till my neverending world
will turn into a pillar or something
The hunter looked at the goddess and patched her wing with honey and a golden kiss. Then they flew together over the abyss that had the shape of two hands clenched amiss into a prayer. Later, around sunset, after dinner, the hunter revealed his sword and the goddess revealed her soul.
When you arrived you added yourself to myself
like an empire to an empire,
when maps grow and borders glow.
But when you left
I remained bereft of the continent of you
and now I can see
the core of the planet
through the grounds where you stood.
Let’s fly on a kite
big enough to hold both of us,
strong enough to hold all our dreams,
light enough so we can take shelter under it
when it rains.
The pearl on the crown of the earl
shines when flashes discharge
blinds the audience
too much light on short notice
the optical nerve cannot cope
so we have to use our imagination
to feel the pearl and ignore the earl
to appreciate the essence
when we know it’s there
but we cannot taste it
fragrance that comes from nowhere
yet is all around us.
The word was advanced to the rank of general
it feels good about itself
so it orders the other words to follow
the flock of unhuntable fowls
under the sunset
by the lake.
…and I extend my arms
far as your arrow can reach
and I bring it back
put it in the bow
I tell you that we must undo it
into the tree that it was carved out from.
The day has risen from the crib
its muteness deafens the ears of the ribs
spread out like fingers
when you hold someone’s hand
because it’s full of tears
because it’s full of fears.
And the day walks away from the crib
asks for a glass of milk
smiles and blinks
then cries a few tears of ink.
You are dreaming so beautifully
that I can take your dreams
and decorate my chest with them,
medals of joy and courage,
it’ll cover the spots
where spears pierced my body
I shall shield my knees with them
to cover wounds
from when I knelt on the cold stones
in the Westminster Abbey
in the corner of poets
I shall put them over my eyes
so raindrops could not replace tears
I look at your dreams
like pictures at the National Gallery
where everybody had to whisper
but we didn’t care
we made jokes about Van Gogh
and the ward
who fell asleep on his chair.
Your dreams were sitting next to me
I put my arm around their shoulder
they smiled and asked me
if there’s popcorn left in the bag,
There is, I said,
but you have to chew it in silence
Your dreams then said, Oh, please.
With ease we ran through the Trafalgar Square rain
and your dreams started dreaming,
I held their hands
and the hands of their hands.