Room 218

this room’s full of flies,
but has no ceiling
an’ some sun comes by

Room 217

Can it get worse? Of course, my friend. Just go lower. Now, that‘s perverse. Blindfolded, mouthgagged, bound of course – and they even don you with earplugs. Then, with a small, round electrical bone saw, quadruple amputation takes place.
Some say the feetless and handless bodies are later placed into vetrines filled with formaldehyde, in a parody of certain notorious works of contemporary art, but that is just speculation.

Stanza 216

Sì, nonostante sia giorno – nonostante si sia nelle Stanze del Giorno –, in quella stanza di quel merdoso commissariato torturano e stuprano e ammazzano, e quel sacco insanguinato e pieno di sputacchi su quella sedia sei proprio tu che agonizzi. Sembrava impossibile, eh?

Room 215

I take you as a star and as a trap
as a stone to unbalance the scale,
as a blind judge & hole & path,
as a cross, arrow and rose;
I take myself as a carrier of themes,
a host.
All that’s personal soon rots;
it must be kept in ice, or cooked.
The world is everything that’s the case,
yet authenticity is for the faithful
to the ambiguity of experience.

“Go, go, go,” said the bird: “humans
cannot bear much reality!”

Room 214

… up inside
one of the many garrets of the immense dream…

Room 213

Today my body is in eclipse.
Was it wrong just to be born?
how can I believe or trust
this burning thing ─── this heart?
The lamb brought for sacrifice
ate up all the leaf brought for decorations;
I’ve never heard of a crime
I couldn’t imagine committing myself.
I’ll give you my word, lest I will try,
lords o lords of the meeting rivers,
never, ever to be born again.

Room 212

The rich may build temples and shrines;
What shall I,
a woman owning not even
this room, do?
My legs will be pillars: I walk;
the womb 
a shrine – over the head a dome.
Listen now,
lords all of the meeting rivers;
all things standing will fall one day
but the moving ever shall stay.