Friday, January 28, 2011

249. La Vita Nuova

of the air in the reign of the body
from the body in the space of the air

with the rising of the breath of the body
at the loss of a grasp of the air

we take it in little pieces

icicle in the place of a palm
held enough to make for melting

bit of snow for the powder
but it melts

enough time and a black lake

white snow melts to black water
black water runs to white

toothpicks out of the smallest icicles
and we can drink what they melt into

our skin wet
from snow and ice

water is the form flesh takes
before it takes to flight

night is the shape of sleeping
and tastes the breath of snow

ave icicles
ave avenue of icicles across the eaves

with morning and sun and crashing
down of ice the world is once again alive

dragged or drug out of the water
and wet and wrinkled yet

pulling a body that is his own
body out of the pooled water

a wet man drenched in the pond of the cold water of the cave

water makes light
or makes the most of it

piston of the body as a leg
pillow of the body as a head

intricacies of enticement
in the body of water

amen and ave

amen
and ave to the people of water

amen
and ave to the rivers of ice off the roof

amen
and ave to the blank waters we sink beneath

water as ink
it covers us as a page

water as ink
we disappear into the making of our own words

if I could speak
I would not write this down

if I could speak
I would not write

if I could speak
I would not

if I could speak
I would

find the smallest breath of ice
to make a winter song with

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