Now that less seems pleasing
1.
Yesterday, selecting — one
would go this once — my mother
came to offer me her emptiness —
she did not turn away at once —
necessities identified, the water
lifting up as almost nothing
flooding but steam clouding
from the cooling metal. See,
you said: yourself
before the onrush…
2.
My balance is precarious —
edged here on a line of sight
that you define as I look out
to, you look back from,
I step forward, you step toward
me, paused to greet me — I was
Joseph, you were Mirjam —
the beginnings that we came
to — all the others we saw
clouding from the wash of
steam that each of us appeared
to breathe out for the morning
in the cold air — from, toward us
on the line of sight between us,
Joseph, Mirjam, incommensurate
both with You, with I, provisionally
two names between us for
the clarities that hide us,
so that clarity concealed us
in the turn of air and cloud
to stream gone underground
to meet you, love, beneath their
cruelties and the violence of
these fiends of righteousness…
3.
But Miriam, your razored inbetween —
so sharp it cuts before the notice given
in a minute — my insistence as
I swing here like a pendulum
in black — what was it like
to leave existence this way
after this, no celebration left to
celebrate — I celebrate — minutely,
freed night-long, become what
I beheld, more microscopic
than a knife could find and
razored mutely past the reaches
of the soul, dear one, to find you —
onrush, after…
4.
Tomorrow, yesterday occluded —
past the reaches — with no eyes —
without hands or feet or tongue
a man can go on living —
eventually the blood runs out…
tomorrow, yesterday beyond
the reaches phantoms me
the way a tree hides —
where I sense where
I am placed to sense —
the brain gives out, the mind
does not, the tree is left with
branches out of reach, the thought
floods out to find no shore to find
on, then hears mutely your
reflected clef — a torso
listens to a gasp of breath,
the music in between the moan —
5.
All ears although you
seem surprised… dear
onrush… with
your bundle… out
before, perhaps
a slightly clearer you,
offering your wording,
finding out your
way in hiding, yesterday’s
selections when my mother
brought her emptiness to bear
but you were restless, they
will wait — if needed you may
find them — but no antecedents
suit you… without reasons but
with threads you stitch the tissues
without hands or eyes or tongue,
the feet and legs departed,
blinded head, a torso
but no antecedent for you
as you mind me, part
reflection, part anticipation,
the apt pupil of the time loss
on the gentle side of interludes
dismembered unforgetfully
remembrance gathered
from the bits and pieces, a forensic
science of forgiveness as you piece
the face into my face again
with broken fingerings
black stutterer of blankness…
my interpreter…
6.
The fractured floor
you lie across until I float up
free of no one I can think of —
you rise with me, scarcely now
selecting… waiting for the onrush
in the bare green trebles… water-
children, Ruth, Noëmi, Mirjam… but
you seemed surprised to be so many,
that so many Josephs come to greet
you — I, still unfamiliar, cutting
holes out of your cloth —
7.
How small I seemed —
but simply put,
inadequately phrased —
frenzied, the axis raced —
settlements for transports
to be left in question —
returning these expressions
to their radicals, ink trembling,
urgency with nothing left to
take with me, no luggage left
to hide you in, today in preparation,
moments neither you nor I could bear
to feed without forgetting place-names
for gift-takers, little unremembered
acts when less seemed pleasing…
8.
There despite
me, the whole
cloth not
to spite me —
Ruth, Noëmi, Mirjam —
when you come to find
the waters Rachel sailed on,
bring the roots the seaweed
hungers after, bring sea lavender
your blessings, bring the apples
from the forest-orchards
in the winter, Ruth, Naomi
Miriam —
9.
To hear blind
see deaf here —
although I was confined
in what I thought was
infinite —
my shell space
I crawled into, prismed
black in all the variations
of the colorless
I offered
for an empty feeling —
10.
Following your shoe prints —
mud and sky-reflected water —
to the backyard where I may
have heard you calling, signaling
a passing cloud you freed me
looking backward for — this way
I balanced even after blue
turned black once more
backlighting what before
for you was only one more
evening afterward,
more calm, another quiet…
11.
Miriam, the mistimed day — how did I
fail to notice — I am such a stranger
here — now that the snake
is everywhere — first
you came with languages —
with every day necessities —
now that the snake is everywhere —
12.
Ruth, Noëmi, mistimed
here to find
me — how did I fail
to notice — cold metallics,
misplaced chemistry
of severed principles,
apt pupils, rituals of
eyes blink out at night where
everywhere the snake blinks
now that less seems pleasing…
13.
The dismemberments
must set me free if I am free
to celebrate the freedom
swinging like a pendulum
in black the minute
that the dark comes
aimlessly to quiet my
misgiving and give
generously to all
the Josephs —
without antecedents
with night-gazes —
in the day-break
for my transports —
14.
To the summer
in the country
where the swallows
summon forward
toward the autumn
winter premonitions —
I am waiting —
all my Josephs,
all my darlings
all your summons
though without you
not without you
if I detail
your arrivals —
15.
Starlings…
little ravens…
little ossifying
star-birds
pomegranates
for oranges
on your transports
to the country —
where no wording
finds expression
for the quiet
of your radicals,
for the roots of
your reflections
inking birches
with priorities —
16.
Before? not as before —
impossibly plus one —
Miriam transfigured once —
You the possibility I lived
for, then if N, then N plus
one, if Miriam, Naomi once,
like history, these accretions,
Ruth, Noëmi, Rachel — one
about to be another,
endlessly as rooted,
infinitudes,
affinities
if possible, plus one, if
Mirjam, Noëmi — as possible,
as possibly, my way to you impossibly…
one more once more as rooted…
impossibly plus once…
17.
The space between us, never
certain, if you shift, I follow,
I step forward, you step
to one side — surprising me,
not mirroring arrangements
now improbably but two
in places we pace off
as once…
18.
Balance on the edge of nothing
edging in between — so rooted in
one way and wretchedly another —
while I stand back and look, you
balancing my gaze, who have
been hiding in plain sight again —
a face among the leaves like
orchards hiding in the forest
from a distance, but too close to me to
see you swing the pendulum of my being —
please here, here pleased — many colors —
all the Josephs crowing for their lovers —
19.
And here at first
you listen to each note
that each anticipates
the not-like-that — but
something like itself —
and hearing — upturned
to uncertain blessing —
translates from a wound
my agitation
and unties a flower.
References
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