Sonnet IX: There where the waves shatter

There where the waves shatter on the restless rocksthe clear light bursts and enacts its rose,and the sea-circle shrinks to a cluster of buds,to one drop of blue salt, falling. O bright magnolia bursting in the foam,magnetic transient whose death bloomsand vanishes–being, nothingness–forever:broken salt, dazzling lurch of the sea. You & I, Love, together we … Read more

The Old Women Of The Ocean

To the solemn sea the old women come With their shawls knotted around their necks With their fragile feet cracking. They sit down alone on the shore Without moving their eyes or their hands Without changing the clouds or the silence. The obscene sea breaks and claws Rushes downhill trumpeting Shakes its bull’s beard. The … Read more

Triangles

Three triangles of birds crossed Over the enormous ocean which extended In winter like a green beast. Everything just lay there, the silence, The unfolding gray, the heavy light Of space, some land now and then. Over everything there was passing A flight And another flight Of dark birds, winter bodies Trembling triangles Whose wings, … Read more

Sonnet XXV

Before I loved you, love, nothing was my own: I wavered through the streets, amongObjects: Nothing mattered or had a name: The world was made of air, which waited. I knew rooms full of ashes, Tunnels where the moon lived, Rough warehouses that growled ‘get lost’, Questions that insisted in the sand. Everything was empty, … Read more

The People

I recall that man and not two centurieshave passed since I saw him,he went neither by horse nor by carriage:purely on foothe outstrippeddistances,and carried no sword or armour,only nets on his shoulder,axe or hammer or spade,never fighting the rest of his species:his exploits were with water and earth,with wheat so that it turned into bread,with … Read more

Walking Around

It so happens I am sick of being a man.And it happens that I walk into tailorshops and movie housesdried up, waterproof, like a swan made of feltsteering my way in a water of wombs and ashes. The smell of barbershops makes me break into hoarse sobs.The only thing I want is to lie still … Read more

Sonnet LXXIII: Maybe you’ll remember

Maybe you’ll remember that razor-faced man who slipped out from the dark like a blade and – before we realized – knew what was there: he saw the smoke and concluded fire. The pallid woman with black hair rose like a fish from the abyss, and the two of them built up a contraption, armed … Read more