Mostrar mensagens com a etiqueta poetry. Mostrar todas as mensagens
Mostrar mensagens com a etiqueta poetry. Mostrar todas as mensagens

domingo, 11 de agosto de 2013

The Tables Turned


Up! up! my friend, and quit your books;
Or surely you'll grow double.
Up! up! my friend, and clear your looks;
Why all this toil and trouble?

The sun above the mountain's head,
A freshening lustre mellow
Through all the long green fields has spread,
His first sweet evening yellow.

Books! 'tis a dull and endless trifle:
Come, hear the woodland linnet,
How sweet his music! on my life,
There's more of wisdom in it.

And hark! how blithe the throstle sings!
He, too, is no mean preacher:
Come forth into the light of things,
Let Nature be your teacher.

She has a world of ready wealth,
Our minds and hearts to bless —
Spontaneous wisdom breathed by health,
Truth breathed by cheerfulness.

One impulse from a vernal wood
May teach you more of man,
Of moral evil and of good,
Than all the sages can.

Sweet is the lore which Nature brings;
Our meddling intellect
Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things —
We murder to dissect.

Enough of Science and of Art;
Close up those barren leaves;
Come forth, and bring with you a heart
That watches and receives.



The Tables Turned by William Wordsworth (1770-1850)


----------------------
“To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best day and night to make you like everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight and never stop fighting.” E.E. Cummings

domingo, 14 de julho de 2013

Dia cinzento, hoje. Sol, onde estás?




“Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, 
And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.”

William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream 

---------------------- 
“To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best day and night to make you like everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight and never stop fighting.” E.E. Cummings


domingo, 7 de julho de 2013

The Sun, the Moon and the River

(esta bateria nova dura 4 horas! Ainda dá para inserir este post sentado nas escadas para a praia, tendo como única luz o LCD e as estrelas)


Same Sun, Same Moon, Same River


It is easy to imagine Heraclitus
walking stone streets witnessing
life in Athens with no permanence,
stopping strangers to explain about the river,
being laughed at as they moved
from point A to point B fearing Apollo
and Hades then at dusk drinking wine,
waiting for the happy obliteration alcohol brings,
not realizing how lucky they were
to be stupid and so deep
in their bodies even the sun
and moon trading places over and over
meant nothing.


Neil Carpathios






The energy of arrogance
Is wasted on the young
The power of all the thoughts
We have is greater than the sum
Don't believe your brothers
They will break you one by one
Don't deceive your daughters
They will never bear you sons
*Repeat Chorus
It always seemed so easy
When we watched it while were young
We always found a reason to be cheerful having fun

Don't blame the moon
Don't blame the sun
Just tell me everything will be done
Don't blame the stars from up above
Just tell me everything is done for love


---------------------- 
“To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best day and night to make you like everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight and never stop fighting.” E.E. Cummings

Burn, Our Sun, burn us all and bring the Future


Our Sun
By George Seferis

This sun was mine and yours; we shared it.
Who’s suffering behind the golden silk, who’s dying?
A woman beating her dry breasts cried out: ‘Cowards,
they’ve taken my children and torn them to shreds, you’ve killed them
gazing at the fire-flies at dusk with a strange look,
lost in blind thought.’
The blood was drying on a hand that a tree made green,
a warrior was asleep clutching the lance that cast light against his side.

It was ours, this sun, we saw nothing behind the gold embroidery
then the messengers came, dirty and breathless,
stuttering unintelligible words
twenty days and nights on the barren earth with thorns only
twenty days and nights feeling the bellies of the horses bleeding
and not a moment’s break to drink the rain-water.
You told them to rest first and then to speak, the light had dazzled you.
They died saying ‘We don’t have time’, touching some rays of the sun.
You’d forgotten that no one rests.

A woman howled ‘Cowards’, like a dog in the night.
Once she would have been beautiful like you
with wet mouth, veins alive beneath the skin,
with love.

This sun was ours; you kept all of it, you wouldn’t follow me.
And it was then I found out about those things behind the gold and the silk:
we don’t have time. The messengers were right.


Translated from greek by Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard






Mowing

 There was never a sound beside the wood but one,

And that was my long scythe whispering to the ground.
What was it it whispered? I knew not well myself;
Perhaps it was something about the heat of the sun,
Something, perhaps, about the lack of sound—
And that was why it whispered and did not speak.
It was no dream of the gift of idle hours,
Or easy gold at the hand of fay or elf:
Anything more than the truth would have seemed too weak
To the earnest love that laid the swale in rows,
Not without feeble-pointed spikes of flowers
(Pale orchises), and scared a bright green snake.
The fact is the sweetest dream that labor knows.
My long scythe whispered and left the hay to make.

 Robert Frost


The sun blazes overhead through the redwood branches in Muir Woods. Photo by Krysti Sabins

---------------------- 
“To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best day and night to make you like everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight and never stop fighting.” E.E. Cummings

segunda-feira, 3 de junho de 2013

I am putting The Bright Star of Beauty's dawn on Empty Space



"Le cri : audace! est un Fiat Lux. Il faut, pour la marche en avant du genre humain, qu'il y ait sur les sommets en permanence de fières leçons de courage. Les témérités éblouissent l'histoire et sont une des grandes clartés de l'homme. L'aurore ose quand elle se lève. Tenter, braver, persister, persévérer, s'être fidèle à soi-même, prendre corps à corps le destin."

Victor Hugo, Les Misérables,t. 1, 1862, p. 707.



"Aurora era a deusa romana do amanhecer, equivalente à grega Eos. Aurora é a palavra latina para amanhecer. Aurora renovava-se todas as manhãs ao amanhecer e voava pelos céus anunciando a chegada da manhã."



E o que é esse conceito de "The Bright Star of Beauty", perguntais? 
Não sei... ninguém sabe... mas talvez uma Inspiração, uma Vontade, um Destino? É que a palavra "Destino" tanto significa "objetivo final" como "caminho que não podia ser feito de outra forma". Talvez seja isso, um "Destino". Ou uma casa. Ou uma rua.

Sou a Tua Casa 

"Sou a tua casa, a tua rua, a tua segurança, o teu destino. Sou a maçã que comes e a roupa que vestes. Sou o degrau por onde sobes, o copo por onde bebes, o teu riso e o teu choro, o teu frio e a tua lareira. O pedinte que ajudas, o asilo que te quer acolher. Sou o teu pensamento, a tua recordação, a tua vontade. E também o artesão que para ti trabalha, o medo que te perturba e o cão que te guia quando entras pela noite. Sou o sítio onde descansas, a árvore que te dá sombra, o vento que contigo se comove. Sou o teu corpo, o teu espírito, o teu brilho, a tua dúvida. Sou a tua mãe, o teu amante, o marfim dos teus dentes. E sou, na luz do outono, o teu olhar. Sou a tua parteira e a tua lápide. Os teus vinte anos. O coração sepultado em ti. Sou as tuas asas, a tua liberdade, e tudo o que se move no teu interior. Sou a tua ressaca, o teu transtorno, o relógio que mede o tempo que te resta. Sou a tua memória, a memória da tua memória, o teu orgulho, a fecundação das tuas entranhas, a absolvição dos teus pecados. O teu amuleto e a tua humildade. Sou a tua cobardia, a tua coragem, a força com que amas. Sou os teus óculos e a tua leitura. A tua música preferida, a tua cor preferida, o teu poema preferido. Sou o que significas para mim, a ternura que desagua nos teus dedos, o tamanho das tuas pupilas antes e depois de fazer amor. Sou o que sou em ti e o que não podes ser em mim. Sou uma só coisa. E duas coisas diferentes."

Joaquim Pessoa, in 'Ano Comum'




Escultura de Rui Chafes

Revista Pública: "O objecto, a forma, interessa-lhe enquanto veículo de uma ideia. Entre as esferas, cones ou cilindros há as formas que nos remetem para casulos, para máscaras, sapatos e casacos que denunciam uma ausência. Parecem ter servido de abrigo a um corpo que se evadiu. Dir-se-ia que há uma representação dessa ausência, do vazio. Será assim?"

Rui Chafes: "Isso tem a ver com o medo e com o abismo. Os casacos que eu fiz, em 89, tinham o título "Vertigem". Quando uma pessoa se debruça para dentro o abismo é tão profundo que se sente uma vertigem. Era esse o ponto de partida. É uma ideia muito romântica, a ideia da perda da sombra, da perda da materialidade e da perda da existência no mundo. Mas a ausência de um corpo é uma metáfora violenta de tudo aquilo que nos interessa. A nossa vida é feita de encontros e despedidas. Os momentos mais importantes são quando conhecemos alguém ou quando nos despedimos de alguém, quando um bebé nasce ou quando uma pessoa morre. E desse encontro ou despedida ficará sempre uma cicatriz, uma marca da separação e uma marca da morte. E é preciso extrair beleza dessa marca. " 

Excerto de uma entrevista a Rui Chafes publicada em 2007 na Pública.


Makeup on Empty Space
By Anne Waldman



I am putting makeup on empty space
all patinas convening on empty space
rouge blushing on empty space
I am putting makeup on empty space
pasting eyelashes on empty space
painting the eyebrows of empty space
piling creams on empty space
painting the phenomenal world
I am hanging ornaments on empty space
gold clips, lacquer combs, plastic hairpins on empty space   
I am sticking wire pins into empty space
I pour words over empty space, enthrall the empty space   
packing, stuffing jamming empty space
spinning necklaces around empty space
Fancy this, imagine this: painting the phenomenal world   
bangles on wrists
pendants hung on empty space
I am putting my memory into empty space
undressing you
hanging the wrinkled clothes on a nail
hanging the green coat on a nail
dancing in the evening it ended with dancing in the evening   
I am still thinking about putting makeup on empty space   
I want to scare you: the hanging night, the drifting night,
the moaning night, daughter of troubled sleep I want to scare you   
you
I bind as far as cold day goes
I bind the power of 20 husky men
I bind the seductive colorful women, all of them   
I bind the massive rock
I bind the hanging night, the drifting night, the   
moaning night, daughter of troubled sleep
I am binding my debts, I magnetize the phone bill   
bind the root of my pointed tongue
I cup my hands in water, splash water on empty space   
water drunk by empty space
Look what thoughts will do   Look what words will do   
from nothing to the face
from nothing to the root of the tongue
from nothing to speaking of empty space   
I bind the ash tree
I bind the yew
I bind the willow
I bind uranium
I bind the uneconomical unrenewable energy of uranium   
dash uranium to empty space
I bind the color red I seduce the color red to empty space   
I put the sunset in empty space
I take the blue of his eyes and make an offering to empty space   
renewable blue
I take the green of everything coming to life, it grows &   
climbs into empty space
I put the white of the snow at the foot of empty space   
I clasp the yellow of the cat's eyes sitting in the   
black space I clasp them to my heart, empty space
I want the brown of this floor to rise up into empty space   
Take the floor apart to find the brown,
bind it up again under spell of empty space
I want to take this old wall apart I am rich in my mind thinking   
of this, I am thinking of putting makeup on empty space   
Everything crumbles around empty space
the thin dry weed crumbles, the milkweed is blown into empty space   
I bind the stars reflected in your eye
from nothing to these typing fingers
from nothing to the legs of the elk
from nothing to the neck of the deer
from nothing to porcelain teeth
from nothing to the fine stand of pine in the forest   
I kept it going when I put the water on
when I let the water run
sweeping together in empty space
There is a better way to say empty space
Turn yourself inside out and you might disappear   
you have a new definition in empty space
What I like about impermanence is the clash   
of my big body with empty space
I am putting the floor back together again   
I am rebuilding the wall
I am slapping mortar on bricks
I am fastening the machine together with delicate wire
There is no eternal thread, maybe there is thread of pure gold
I am starting to sing inside about the empty space
there is some new detail every time
I am taping the picture I love so well on the wall:
moonless black night beyond country-plaid curtains
everything illuminated out of empty space
I hang the black linen dress on my body
the hanging night, the drifting night, the moaning night
daughter of troubled sleep
This occurs to me
I hang up a mirror to catch stars, everything occurs to me out in the   
night in my skull of empty space
I go outside in starry ice
I build up the house again in memory of empty space
This occurs to me about empty space   
that it is nevered to be mentioned again   
Fancy this
imagine this
painting the phenomenal world
there's talk of dressing the body with strange adornments
to remind you of a vow to empty space
there's talk of the discourse in your mind like a silkworm
I wish to venture into a not-chiseled place
I pour sand on the ground
Objects and vehicles emerge from the fog
the canyon is dangerous tonight   
suddenly there are warning lights
The patrol is helpful in the manner of guiding
there is talk of slowing down   
there is talk of a feminine deity   
I bind her with a briar
I bind with the tooth of a tiger   
I bind with my quartz crystal   
I magnetize the worlds
I cover myself with jewels
I drink amrita
there is some new detail
there is a spangle on her shoe   
there is a stud on her boot
the tires are studded for the difficult climb
I put my hands to my face
I am putting makeup on empty space
I wanted to scare you with the night that scared me
the drifting night, the moaning night
Someone was always intruding to make you forget empty space   
you put it all on
you paint your nails
you put on scarves
all the time adorning empty space
Whatever-your-name-is I tell you “empty space”
with your fictions with dancing come around to it
with your funny way of singing come around to it
with your smiling come to it
with your enormous retinue & accumulation come around to it   
with your extras come round to it
with your good fortune, with your lazy fortune come round to it   
when you look most like a bird, that is the time to come around to it   
when you are cheating, come to it
when you are in your anguished head
when you are not sensible
when you are insisting on the
praise from many tongues
It begins with the root of the tongue
it begins with the root of the heart
there is a spinal cord of wind
singing & moaning in empty space


---------------------- 
“To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best day and night to make you like everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight and never stop fighting.” E.E. Cummings

domingo, 26 de maio de 2013

I'm putting the Bright Star of Beauty on empty space (edição revista e melhorada porque a ideia é mesmo essa)




E o que é esse conceito de "The Bright Star of Beauty", perguntais? 
Não sei... ninguém sabe... mas talvez uma Inspiração, uma Vontade, um Destino? É que a palavra "Destino" tanto significa "objetivo final" como "caminho que não podia ser feito de outra forma". Talvez seja isso, um "Destino". Ou uma casa. Ou uma rua.

Sou a Tua Casa 

"Sou a tua casa, a tua rua, a tua segurança, o teu destino. Sou a maçã que comes e a roupa que vestes. Sou o degrau por onde sobes, o copo por onde bebes, o teu riso e o teu choro, o teu frio e a tua lareira. O pedinte que ajudas, o asilo que te quer acolher. Sou o teu pensamento, a tua recordação, a tua vontade. E também o artesão que para ti trabalha, o medo que te perturba e o cão que te guia quando entras pela noite. Sou o sítio onde descansas, a árvore que te dá sombra, o vento que contigo se comove. Sou o teu corpo, o teu espírito, o teu brilho, a tua dúvida. Sou a tua mãe, o teu amante, o marfim dos teus dentes. E sou, na luz do outono, o teu olhar. Sou a tua parteira e a tua lápide. Os teus vinte anos. O coração sepultado em ti. Sou as tuas asas, a tua liberdade, e tudo o que se move no teu interior. Sou a tua ressaca, o teu transtorno, o relógio que mede o tempo que te resta. Sou a tua memória, a memória da tua memória, o teu orgulho, a fecundação das tuas entranhas, a absolvição dos teus pecados. O teu amuleto e a tua humildade. Sou a tua cobardia, a tua coragem, a força com que amas. Sou os teus óculos e a tua leitura. A tua música preferida, a tua cor preferida, o teu poema preferido. Sou o que significas para mim, a ternura que desagua nos teus dedos, o tamanho das tuas pupilas antes e depois de fazer amor. Sou o que sou em ti e o que não podes ser em mim. Sou uma só coisa. E duas coisas diferentes."

Joaquim Pessoa, in 'Ano Comum'







Makeup on Empty Space
By Anne Waldman



I am putting makeup on empty space
all patinas convening on empty space
rouge blushing on empty space
I am putting makeup on empty space
pasting eyelashes on empty space
painting the eyebrows of empty space
piling creams on empty space
painting the phenomenal world
I am hanging ornaments on empty space
gold clips, lacquer combs, plastic hairpins on empty space   
I am sticking wire pins into empty space
I pour words over empty space, enthrall the empty space   
packing, stuffing jamming empty space
spinning necklaces around empty space
Fancy this, imagine this: painting the phenomenal world   
bangles on wrists
pendants hung on empty space
I am putting my memory into empty space
undressing you
hanging the wrinkled clothes on a nail
hanging the green coat on a nail
dancing in the evening it ended with dancing in the evening   
I am still thinking about putting makeup on empty space   
I want to scare you: the hanging night, the drifting night,
the moaning night, daughter of troubled sleep I want to scare you   
you
I bind as far as cold day goes
I bind the power of 20 husky men
I bind the seductive colorful women, all of them   
I bind the massive rock
I bind the hanging night, the drifting night, the   
moaning night, daughter of troubled sleep
I am binding my debts, I magnetize the phone bill   
bind the root of my pointed tongue
I cup my hands in water, splash water on empty space   
water drunk by empty space
Look what thoughts will do   Look what words will do   
from nothing to the face
from nothing to the root of the tongue
from nothing to speaking of empty space   
I bind the ash tree
I bind the yew
I bind the willow
I bind uranium
I bind the uneconomical unrenewable energy of uranium   
dash uranium to empty space
I bind the color red I seduce the color red to empty space   
I put the sunset in empty space
I take the blue of his eyes and make an offering to empty space   
renewable blue
I take the green of everything coming to life, it grows &   
climbs into empty space
I put the white of the snow at the foot of empty space   
I clasp the yellow of the cat's eyes sitting in the   
black space I clasp them to my heart, empty space
I want the brown of this floor to rise up into empty space   
Take the floor apart to find the brown,
bind it up again under spell of empty space
I want to take this old wall apart I am rich in my mind thinking   
of this, I am thinking of putting makeup on empty space   
Everything crumbles around empty space
the thin dry weed crumbles, the milkweed is blown into empty space   
I bind the stars reflected in your eye
from nothing to these typing fingers
from nothing to the legs of the elk
from nothing to the neck of the deer
from nothing to porcelain teeth
from nothing to the fine stand of pine in the forest   
I kept it going when I put the water on
when I let the water run
sweeping together in empty space
There is a better way to say empty space
Turn yourself inside out and you might disappear   
you have a new definition in empty space
What I like about impermanence is the clash   
of my big body with empty space
I am putting the floor back together again   
I am rebuilding the wall
I am slapping mortar on bricks
I am fastening the machine together with delicate wire
There is no eternal thread, maybe there is thread of pure gold
I am starting to sing inside about the empty space
there is some new detail every time
I am taping the picture I love so well on the wall:
moonless black night beyond country-plaid curtains
everything illuminated out of empty space
I hang the black linen dress on my body
the hanging night, the drifting night, the moaning night
daughter of troubled sleep
This occurs to me
I hang up a mirror to catch stars, everything occurs to me out in the   
night in my skull of empty space
I go outside in starry ice
I build up the house again in memory of empty space
This occurs to me about empty space   
that it is nevered to be mentioned again   
Fancy this
imagine this
painting the phenomenal world
there's talk of dressing the body with strange adornments
to remind you of a vow to empty space
there's talk of the discourse in your mind like a silkworm
I wish to venture into a not-chiseled place
I pour sand on the ground
Objects and vehicles emerge from the fog
the canyon is dangerous tonight   
suddenly there are warning lights
The patrol is helpful in the manner of guiding
there is talk of slowing down   
there is talk of a feminine deity   
I bind her with a briar
I bind with the tooth of a tiger   
I bind with my quartz crystal   
I magnetize the worlds
I cover myself with jewels
I drink amrita
there is some new detail
there is a spangle on her shoe   
there is a stud on her boot
the tires are studded for the difficult climb
I put my hands to my face
I am putting makeup on empty space
I wanted to scare you with the night that scared me
the drifting night, the moaning night
Someone was always intruding to make you forget empty space   
you put it all on
you paint your nails
you put on scarves
all the time adorning empty space
Whatever-your-name-is I tell you “empty space”
with your fictions with dancing come around to it
with your funny way of singing come around to it
with your smiling come to it
with your enormous retinue & accumulation come around to it   
with your extras come round to it
with your good fortune, with your lazy fortune come round to it   
when you look most like a bird, that is the time to come around to it   
when you are cheating, come to it
when you are in your anguished head
when you are not sensible
when you are insisting on the
praise from many tongues
It begins with the root of the tongue
it begins with the root of the heart
there is a spinal cord of wind
singing & moaning in empty space


---------------------- 
“To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best day and night to make you like everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight and never stop fighting.” E.E. Cummings

domingo, 19 de maio de 2013

I'm putting the Bright Star of Beauty on empty space (edição revista e melhorada porque a ideia é mesmo essa)


E o que é esse conceito de "The Bright Star of Beauty", perguntais? 
Não sei... ninguém sabe... mas talvez uma Inspiração, uma Vontade, um Destino? É que a palavra "Destino" tanto significa "objetivo final" como "caminho que não podia ser feito de outra forma". Talvez seja isso, um "Destino". Ou uma casa. Ou uma rua.

Sou a Tua Casa 

"Sou a tua casa, a tua rua, a tua segurança, o teu destino. Sou a maçã que comes e a roupa que vestes. Sou o degrau por onde sobes, o copo por onde bebes, o teu riso e o teu choro, o teu frio e a tua lareira. O pedinte que ajudas, o asilo que te quer acolher. Sou o teu pensamento, a tua recordação, a tua vontade. E também o artesão que para ti trabalha, o medo que te perturba e o cão que te guia quando entras pela noite. Sou o sítio onde descansas, a árvore que te dá sombra, o vento que contigo se comove. Sou o teu corpo, o teu espírito, o teu brilho, a tua dúvida. Sou a tua mãe, o teu amante, o marfim dos teus dentes. E sou, na luz do outono, o teu olhar. Sou a tua parteira e a tua lápide. Os teus vinte anos. O coração sepultado em ti. Sou as tuas asas, a tua liberdade, e tudo o que se move no teu interior. Sou a tua ressaca, o teu transtorno, o relógio que mede o tempo que te resta. Sou a tua memória, a memória da tua memória, o teu orgulho, a fecundação das tuas entranhas, a absolvição dos teus pecados. O teu amuleto e a tua humildade. Sou a tua cobardia, a tua coragem, a força com que amas. Sou os teus óculos e a tua leitura. A tua música preferida, a tua cor preferida, o teu poema preferido. Sou o que significas para mim, a ternura que desagua nos teus dedos, o tamanho das tuas pupilas antes e depois de fazer amor. Sou o que sou em ti e o que não podes ser em mim. Sou uma só coisa. E duas coisas diferentes."

Joaquim Pessoa, in 'Ano Comum'







Makeup on Empty Space
By Anne Waldman



I am putting makeup on empty space
all patinas convening on empty space
rouge blushing on empty space
I am putting makeup on empty space
pasting eyelashes on empty space
painting the eyebrows of empty space
piling creams on empty space
painting the phenomenal world
I am hanging ornaments on empty space
gold clips, lacquer combs, plastic hairpins on empty space   
I am sticking wire pins into empty space
I pour words over empty space, enthrall the empty space   
packing, stuffing jamming empty space
spinning necklaces around empty space
Fancy this, imagine this: painting the phenomenal world   
bangles on wrists
pendants hung on empty space
I am putting my memory into empty space
undressing you
hanging the wrinkled clothes on a nail
hanging the green coat on a nail
dancing in the evening it ended with dancing in the evening   
I am still thinking about putting makeup on empty space   
I want to scare you: the hanging night, the drifting night,
the moaning night, daughter of troubled sleep I want to scare you   
you
I bind as far as cold day goes
I bind the power of 20 husky men
I bind the seductive colorful women, all of them   
I bind the massive rock
I bind the hanging night, the drifting night, the   
moaning night, daughter of troubled sleep
I am binding my debts, I magnetize the phone bill   
bind the root of my pointed tongue
I cup my hands in water, splash water on empty space   
water drunk by empty space
Look what thoughts will do   Look what words will do   
from nothing to the face
from nothing to the root of the tongue
from nothing to speaking of empty space   
I bind the ash tree
I bind the yew
I bind the willow
I bind uranium
I bind the uneconomical unrenewable energy of uranium   
dash uranium to empty space
I bind the color red I seduce the color red to empty space   
I put the sunset in empty space
I take the blue of his eyes and make an offering to empty space   
renewable blue
I take the green of everything coming to life, it grows &   
climbs into empty space
I put the white of the snow at the foot of empty space   
I clasp the yellow of the cat's eyes sitting in the   
black space I clasp them to my heart, empty space
I want the brown of this floor to rise up into empty space   
Take the floor apart to find the brown,
bind it up again under spell of empty space
I want to take this old wall apart I am rich in my mind thinking   
of this, I am thinking of putting makeup on empty space   
Everything crumbles around empty space
the thin dry weed crumbles, the milkweed is blown into empty space   
I bind the stars reflected in your eye
from nothing to these typing fingers
from nothing to the legs of the elk
from nothing to the neck of the deer
from nothing to porcelain teeth
from nothing to the fine stand of pine in the forest   
I kept it going when I put the water on
when I let the water run
sweeping together in empty space
There is a better way to say empty space
Turn yourself inside out and you might disappear   
you have a new definition in empty space
What I like about impermanence is the clash   
of my big body with empty space
I am putting the floor back together again   
I am rebuilding the wall
I am slapping mortar on bricks
I am fastening the machine together with delicate wire
There is no eternal thread, maybe there is thread of pure gold
I am starting to sing inside about the empty space
there is some new detail every time
I am taping the picture I love so well on the wall:
moonless black night beyond country-plaid curtains
everything illuminated out of empty space
I hang the black linen dress on my body
the hanging night, the drifting night, the moaning night
daughter of troubled sleep
This occurs to me
I hang up a mirror to catch stars, everything occurs to me out in the   
night in my skull of empty space
I go outside in starry ice
I build up the house again in memory of empty space
This occurs to me about empty space   
that it is nevered to be mentioned again   
Fancy this
imagine this
painting the phenomenal world
there's talk of dressing the body with strange adornments
to remind you of a vow to empty space
there's talk of the discourse in your mind like a silkworm
I wish to venture into a not-chiseled place
I pour sand on the ground
Objects and vehicles emerge from the fog
the canyon is dangerous tonight   
suddenly there are warning lights
The patrol is helpful in the manner of guiding
there is talk of slowing down   
there is talk of a feminine deity   
I bind her with a briar
I bind with the tooth of a tiger   
I bind with my quartz crystal   
I magnetize the worlds
I cover myself with jewels
I drink amrita
there is some new detail
there is a spangle on her shoe   
there is a stud on her boot
the tires are studded for the difficult climb
I put my hands to my face
I am putting makeup on empty space
I wanted to scare you with the night that scared me
the drifting night, the moaning night
Someone was always intruding to make you forget empty space   
you put it all on
you paint your nails
you put on scarves
all the time adorning empty space
Whatever-your-name-is I tell you “empty space”
with your fictions with dancing come around to it
with your funny way of singing come around to it
with your smiling come to it
with your enormous retinue & accumulation come around to it   
with your extras come round to it
with your good fortune, with your lazy fortune come round to it   
when you look most like a bird, that is the time to come around to it   
when you are cheating, come to it
when you are in your anguished head
when you are not sensible
when you are insisting on the
praise from many tongues
It begins with the root of the tongue
it begins with the root of the heart
there is a spinal cord of wind
singing & moaning in empty space


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“To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best day and night to make you like everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight and never stop fighting.” E.E. Cummings