Four Hooded Figures Progress to Embrace the Aleph
Ravaged plains of clouds us guided
Through the dark.
All is now vague, obtuse, all is decided
We saw how torchlight died, how it subsided
We saw weak yellow body of a lark
Ravaged plains of clouds us guided
The gorgon statues us of us reminded
Eyes shut, they wept for our journey stark
All is now vague, obtuse, all is decided
Our spirits calmed, we to our fates abided
Love came, tame as in poems of Petrarch
Ravaged plains of clouds us guided
Blind-folded mingled with far-sighted
And yet could not foresee the journey’s mark
All is now vague, obtuse, all is decided
No one but us our constancy derided
Abandon of the ruins of the ark
Ravaged plains of clouds us guided
Into the vague, obtuse, where all’s decided
Six Little Deaths
and a Suicide
one turning of a key
opens to them the world
there, they safely practise art
in every of its aspects; falls fear
á huis clos, falls silence. every sigh
was swallowed noisily by the dark
sweat-wetted collar in the dark
dammit, where is the fucking key
one second, - an unimpressed sigh
as recompense, he offers the world
with no tristesse, no remorse, no fear;
a sigh becomes a cry, as he performs his art.
among the relics of fine art
unembarrassed, thieves in the dark
aided and abetted by excitement, fear
unstopped by distant jingling of the key
blood rushes, faster, higher than the world
the sirens shriek, broken by a relieved sigh.
together resting after all, they turn away and sigh.
it is a skill, she says, would not call it an art
anything, love, he agrees, in the world
closing their eyes, they let the dark
conceal, awhile, the newfound key
to passion that dissembles fear
it happened in the years of fear
to let out, accidentally, a filthy sigh
withheld and safely hid were the keys
but opened by a song so sweet, thou art
my only light, my guardian angel in this dark
the song that made it small and tight, the world.
too young, too young, cries moral world
scared, but fearlessly exploring every fear
craving to see all, in no need to wait for dark
every little discovery brings out a curious sigh.
while young, while ignorant of being works of art
unknowing that they are to art and life revealing keys
in the soothing dark, at last! a sated sigh.
a return to the world brings shame and fear
loneliness is an art, imagination is the key