viernes, febrero 23, 2007

your brain curls like shell



 O lost moon sisters 
 crescent in hair, sea underfoot do you wander
  in blue veil, in green leaf, in tattered shawl do you wander 
with goldleaf skin, with flaming hair do you wander 
on Avenue A, on Bleecker Street do you wander 
on Rampart Street, on Fillmore Street do you wander 
with flower wreath, with jeweled breath do you wander 

 shining mother of pearl 
behind you 
moonstone eyes 
in which the crescent moon 

with gloves, with hat, in rags, in fur, in beads
 under the waning moon, hair streaming in black rain 
wailing with stray dogs, hissing in doorways 
shadows you are, that fall on the crossroads, 

 jaywalking do you wander 
spitting do you wander 
mumbling and crying do you wander aged and talking to yourselves 
with roving eyes do you wander 
hot for quick love do you sander 
weeping your dead 

 naked you walk 
swathed in long robes you walk 
swaddled in death shroud you walk 
backwards you walk 


 shrieking I hear you 
singing I hear you 
cursing I hear you 
praying I hear you

 you lie with the unicorn you lie with the cobra 
you lie in the dry grass 
you lie with the yeti you flick long cocks of satyrs with your tongue

 you are armed 
you drive chariots 
you tower above me 
you are small you cower on hillsides 
out of the winds 

pregnant you wander 
barefoot you wander 
battered by drunk men you wander 

 you kill on steel tables  
you birth in black beds 
fetus you tore out stiffens in snow 
it rises like new moon 
you moan in your sleep 

 digging for yams you wander 
looking for dope you wander 
playing with birds you wander 
chipping at stone you wander 

 I walk the long night seeking you 
I climb the sea crest seeking you 
I lie on the prairie, batter at stone gates 
calling your names 

 you are coral 
you are lapis and turquoise 
your brain curls like shell 
you dance on hills 

 hard-substance woman you whirl 
you dance on subways 
you sprawl in tenements 
children lick at your tits 

 you are the hills, the shape and color of mesa 
you are the tent, the lodge of skins, the hogan 
the buffalo robes, the quilt, the knitted afghan 
you are the cauldron and the evening star 
you rise over the sea, you ride the dark 

 I move within you, light the evening fire 
I dip my hand in you and eat your flesh 
you are my mirror image and my sister 
you disappear like smoke on misty hills 
you lead me thru dream forest on horseback 
large gypsy mother, I lean my head on your back 

 I am you 
and I must become you  
I have been you and I must become you 
I am always you  
I must become you 

ay-a ah 
ay-a ah ah 
maya ma maya ma 
om star mother ma om 
maya ma ah

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