Thin room; two rooms begets
treats all in convex form
intimately stirs light
fire ether worlds
safe by own strenght
towards the echo –
resounding core
(whole cities, men, everything in ruins…)
safe by own strenght
mortal shell, transient walls
cannot contain
any more
Home of the inventor of the sign
”It’s resoundingly forbidden to…”
You will then go
to the well built rooms
of the black house;
there, on the right wing
that no walls bears
but blunt columns
a cold spring will stand,
where dead souls discend
to ease their anguish;
to this lying spring
not even linger:
next perystile
you’ll find the cold
water that runs
from memory’s lake;
on its front, dreadful
guardians you will find.
Remember now, and
practice, the teachings
received in the past.
They’ll ask, strict insight,
why you wander in sorrow’s path,
through the murky depths of the misty halls.
They’re hard forms of your projections:
recognize them. Not big nor small,
they will spring from your heart: recognize them.
Go ahead, pronounce these words clearly
know their meaning, don’t get scared / lose yourself:
I spring from stout earth & starry sky;
thirst burns me, I may fall: but let me drink,
o let me drink,
the cold water that
from memory’s lake runs;
remember then, but don’t be distracted,
that intermediate is the state you’re in-to.
you cannot,
said the voice,
cat again
father again,
you cannot
twice enter
twice descend
the same room,
twice obtain
the same state
and there was in the deep
of that one, not
cat nor dad but
the wisest man alive,
the blind.
…
three fleasquishing kids
fooled him with seen / taken,
with ‘‘did you hear the one about…’’
with the pea trick, with tell-me-boob.
not before not after
at the same time
binds unbinds
looms & fades
fire again
in this room
(in every room)
a glimpse of the last room
in every last room
a glimpse
of the outside
one;
that room,
same for all,
not a god
not a man
made it
(a seventh cortical layer
to make us angels in a blink;
a ninth to make us laugh of God:
the God, that pastryhands gaffer)
that room,
says this,
always was
is
& will be
everlive fyah
in measure bursts
in measure douses
at the helm of everything,
lightning
Mountain garden,
enclosed garden:
got thirst? Grand mother.
Water with rye
and a mint twig:
even this mixture,
non-stirred,
unties;
noxious boil,
allwar-head’
people call you:
saw myself smiling
reaching for the cup
frame of minutes ago
Finally, a room.
A room I recognize.
(A room, I reckon…)
Una cameretta.
La mia cameretta.
Father sudden entrance: implausible. Globe in hand: impossibile.
The dream, again. Azure curtains, resisting a morning light of pure memory.]
‘‘To gold, straw,’’
says dad,
‘‘asses would favour.’’
I look at the bees,
straw Chicco bees,
circling about;
to them fat
I raise a hand.
‘‘Goldseeker
much digs
lil’ finds,’’
dad sez.
FIRE EXCHANGE
a neon light in the front wall
‘‘What lights’d you love for your room,’’
mother, at relocation.
‘‘Rotating, red, yellow, kaleidoscopic…’’
‘‘Where did you even get such an idea?’’ In the end
a chandelier the shape of a handkerchief;
dad trying to convince me it was still cool enough.
Dad, now, echoing the neon, a duet:
‘‘THINGSALL!’’
THINGSALL EXCHANGE (neon reads)
‘‘FIRE! ’’
LIKE GOODS
‘‘OF GOLD!’’
GOLD…
‘‘OF GOODS!’’
He who lays in slumber
operates & collaborates
to what
in the cosmos
unfolds
999 rooms 