lystn

Three poems from Alphabet de soleils C The banner of your body floats in the Brandenburg wind.An old woman wants to come in, Ican see her through the door, her red felt handpressing in vain on the latch, scrapsof her cries come at me like the barbaricsong of a violin mending the night;I’m going to slip a rose under the doora black-blooded rose, maybe she’ll go away?And I could wallow in the bramble hammockbut her voice hiccups: OpheliaMy name is Ophelia, open the door, O-phe-lia…—What do I care about her grotesque distortionsWhat lie will she bring me? Whydoesn’t she extend it to me through the sheetsof sand the way she extends her name…OpheliaOphelia, her shadow ricochets in the auraof my dusk. Ophelia, her voice grateslike a leper’s rattle, philia, figlia… K Let’s catapult the conchoidal colocynthLet’s catapult the choephori of the coliddors of the tifthand the mitten cruncher, the tomcat cruncher, crunchers of sheepnote cruncher, crunch-in-your-mouth and in arms and in deaths.Let’s catapult the lynx and the oriole’s cochineal mantillalet’s catapult the mangoand the mongoose, shoo! O I’ve plunged my insatiable thirst into the seaweed of your body at rest on the anvil, splendid carrion, treasure of the Galapagos I’ve plunged my hands into your entrails and taken out the Black Lady’s stone dress, stones of grasses, of water and sky, stones of suns and sons.I’ve plunged my hands into your womb, I’ve taken out the wooden horse, white as a star, its tulip harness.I’ve plunged my hands and face into your rotting flesh and taken out your heart gnawed by a big cat, your heart that continues to beat in the pit of my hands more alive than Koh-i-Noor, more precious than the sea’s chariot.I’ve embraced your stiff breasts, beautiful as permanence, and your mouth, crocus of ash said: hate.Your eyes repeated it again as I raised your eyelids oh! Madeleine.Then with a turn I excavated the pearl inlaid in your temple.What erupted were voracious breezes that made your mind a tatter of blue.