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David Lloyd |
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VEGA: LYRE VEGA
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Lo sai: debbio riperderti e non posso. Eugenio Montale, Motets.
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LYRE
Your late star tracks back to its appointed place all the dissevered points of light breath notes slipped from phase A bone lyre in the dark stringless still in the dark heart framed, bone horned Wishbone struck with promise bird toned in the morning hours at your touch I strum breasting the dark a trilling wire in the breath slices what remains ■ VEGA ashen seed laid out on the lintel whatever door passed through you nothing flowed outward unmourned motherclot clenched in the gorge no tear breaks in you one tooth only struck from your mouth unyielding ■ a brass jug in the entry branded the brown hydrangeas brittle petals on the edge of parting utterance stopped in its neck this bone tattoo rattles the dice on the drumskin all the enumerated outcomes star scores gauged on the membrane ■ this is your world out of water: a mud slick at the lip indifferent mouth crammed with seed fruitless fodder in a noisome place full of rains and naming as a lid stone lifts and settles I live on penumbra of your wounded bone ■ first incision of the soft issue soft stuff under my hand takes shape from me tissue of mis- voiced prints you who do not fit slashed cast off threads sticky with seam rubbed wrongwards ■ the crystal fluting flights of wounds amber-ichor aligned on the workbench dredged clear the fingernail ringtests for the voice drill the shrillest cry stalled at the rockface ■ cinder paths of singing school gloomy with broom green print pressed in black ash negative die moulding the raindish and suddenly as light broke through it was as if the wind moved as light scattering motion along the path and then the bright shower white shadow fading in the light ■ day’s residues ferried from the banks the salted ropes bite and torque a knot-raft flotsamming over a door slammed in the night shadows adrift hazing the fanlight a tissue curtain blown across ■ on the bee-stair by the web shreds dry amber curl signal drilled knotted in forgetting this cascade from the latest call almond drift on the air stress lattice, dance net, dying out on the way down ■ Irishish. Grey. The sudden swan- duo, creaking incises the slate hinging this door you are others step through it stories in hand word-burdened weirdened with telling of numbers, brandings ■ from the pain archive in the dimmed room mole-eyed in the halflight (in the klieg light, blinking the silence incomplete broken by the sobs and cries of prisoners tapping the fissures in the passive weight what sleeping rocks dream of: space and stone ■ I opened my mouth and was unone: so many mouths leaving their lips in me! date-scored gash the pursed scar sung into the seaming What speaks through wounds sifted the white stones and I was undone with responding noneplussed and tongueless in a body full of holes ■ I drew a thin thread through pain, deep in the hide the gathering mole- work blindly, a sharp inhalation of breath through the teeth so backstitch, back- stitch in the spine slashed with his own strings hooded, through-sounded, lip split into singing ■ lolla tongue lalla tongue vacant mouth crammed with song Is this a voice you call a person or a thing? an almond stone unstrung let loose off the eddy the voice adrift graining the slick with its drag ■ your same star fades at the shoulder cypress and pine fret the skyline this translucent shade fading in brightness rainweal pressed in the ashpath You who were constellation, clearing, beat play this in dismembrance of me in pieces for my unforgetting the bone fork rings through
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