Unfinished

I hear steps. My plants

bloom green, small leaves

rustle in anticipation.

My blood pumps  through my

eyes contract.

I hear steps by the door,

scratches,

and an plainly dressed old lady

buying fruit.

 

Cup standing still in the air

splashing liquid, and a smashing cracking blow

muddy water burning like the teeth of it

on my foot.

It has come to rule my dreams

again.

Then I wake  to buy

milk and a razor and some bread

and light a cigarette on the

way back through

early summer days.

The sun is shining  on

orgasmic faces of children.

I think:

 

Corrupted minds,

The pigeons, only fly so high

as to behold the skies

and the the tapping of  waves

on the dike.

 

Lo, This baltic church above us.

I roll Spice  in ein langes, braunes Blatt

smoke spice from a plastic bag.

 

Is it waiting in my room,

two horned and grand?

Then suddenly descend

 

through wooden stairwells

of a European age,

Lillies, Lillies, schling ihr euch wie Schlangen ineinander?

 

Die Decke zischt, sie flüstert

Troja, Mauern, fire.

 

I, like her, proclaim from mountain tops

but stuttering,

of vivid joints, of  horses, swelling floods,

 

walk

 

through straydog old-town streets

lined-up merchant homes, neat and clean,

pulled on a string

to dress, adorn,

mothers, stringent, wrinkled neck,

her hanseatic neck, unbroken,

yet.

 

But

 

“Young Man! Things are rising! from the sea,

with heads of steal and lightening bright like manic eyes

her perfect, brutal, beauteous eyes

her werewolf eyes,

and  dress of glass.

A breath of cars,

a tempest, flood.

 

You must now feel her wooing teeth

oft named oblivion,

the nightly dancer,

dancing close your breathing vein,

her soft lip’s palm.

 

Arms will throw things out of proportion

Do you not see the clouds are drunken, red?”

 

Those old ways are crumbling.

Ornaments are falling, faster. Soft young flowers, that spree from fertile soil break through.The sun is rising, in the east!

Do you hear the sweet sound of justice, in lullabies woven into the scent of night?

It  must shakes before

the stars incredible height!

 

sensation of our bodies falling, a revelation that the centre cannot hold

arms of the galaxy must break out

of circular motion

must dissolve,

eventually, must

 

hear me now: the world is fire:

and fire is the world.

 

Or:

love is the world,

and death or wheels

it is

or whatever is the world

and entropy and energy

is the world in fact

 

death is the world and Lethe, the coked up girl,

, is the world