A Shout out to my friend T.S. – Fellow Cat Lover!
I have seen with my own eyes the Sibyl hanging in a jar, and when the boys asked her “What do you want?” She answered, “I want to die.”
April was the cruelest month for breeding
And May left me in dismay, desire a memory stirring
Winter fat left on the bone,
Purpose, forgotten snow, no feeding
Little life, dried tubes.
Summer rained its showers and I could
Not wear bikini in the sunlight,
And drank coffee and talked for hours to
Kein Lieblings, kein mere.
Where were children on sled?
I was frightened.
He said fight.
In the mountains there you are free.
I looked to breasts and said, How-
Out of this stony rubbish?
The roots that clutched,
The branches that grew
Were snatched and torn
And I could feel nothing but the sun beats,
No cricket, no relief, no waters left to
Pour out of the red rock.
Not even the shadow of the red rock.
And just the shadow rising to meet me,
Fear in a handful of lust.
You gave me daisies a year ago,
When I was known to be the unwisest woman in Europe,
Living with a wicked bunch of cards.
I see crowds of people, walking round a ring.
One must be more careful these days.
London Bridge fell down, fell down, fell down
And Bethlehem and Elysium went down with it,
And I was left a crowded flower
I had not thought death could undo so many,
With my nails I would have
Dug out his hollow eyes!
And still I cried, and still the world pursued,
The words pursued, jug jug, to experienced ears and
I was found wanting when I was tried.
You said remember those were pearls.
No rose, only thorns.
Good night, angels, good night, sweet angels, good night, good night.
By the waters of Silver I sat down and wept,
By the waters of Seinne I sat down and wept,
By the waters of Duero I sat down and wept,
By the waters of Elbe I sat down and wept,
By the waters of Liffey I sat down and wept,
Dragging my slimy belly on the bank.
Et O ces voix d’enfants, chantant dans la coupole!
Under the red fog of a winter’s moon.
Hardly aware of my departure,
My brain allowing half-formed thoughts to pass:
‘Well now that’s that’s done: and I’m glad it’s over.’
Smoothing hair with automatic hand,
Music playing on my iPhone,
‘This music crept by me upon the waters’
And the waters spilled upon the banks,
Out out damn spot.
He promised “a new start.”
What should I resent?
Who can connect nothing with nothing.
Left only with broken fingernails on manicured hands,
My people haughty people who express
To Copenhagen I came
Burning burning burning burning
as the final judgement was passed
O Lord Thou pluckest them out
O Lord Thou pluckest
A deep sewn well is the very
Profit and Loss
As I rose and Fell
Passing the stages of age and youth
Lost in the whirlpool
Turning the wheel that looks inward
You picked my bones
As I rose and fell
Then there was red on frosty gardens
Agony in flowery places
Shouting and Crying
Palaces a prision
And reverberation of thunder
In my Spring over distant mountains
She who was dead is living
With a little patience and a little
Drip drop drip
Who is the third that walks beside us
When I look there are only you and I together
But there are footsteps beside ours
Ah the Murmur of maternal lamentation
Over endless pains, and stumbling on cracked earth.
Each in our prison
We have lost the keys
Each in our prison
Revived for a moment broken Aerolas
The hand expert
You see calm
Your heart responded Gaily,
When invited by controlling hands.
I sat upon the shore.
Shall I at least set my lands in order?
falling down falling down falling down
My fair lady
Don’t rain on my parade and
Leave me singing in the rain
These fragments I have shored against my ruins.
Why then I’ll fill you,
Erogenous mad again.
Datta. Dayadhvam. Damyata.
Shantih shantih, Chianti