2008-10-07 - 3:36 PM

Towardness()())(_)_)_)_---=-=

there are poem-entries before this - both sonnets - and another on myspace [someone told me sonnets were addictive...]

5 September 2008
Towardness

There was something strange in the towardness of his pacing
(a long time ago.
In the nineteen thirties,
as a sunghost before he wilted into true life
(waking life)
(a dream-ghost)) – refer to him later..
though he is pacing in a circle
his movement is toward a higher thing,
a treehouse or a god
We come into a thin empty stairwell with no more stairs above it
thin, fasting, and there’s nothing above it
in its aloneness
it is the highest thing – stairs.
The stairs stop in the midst of an ecstatic canister of
darkness chiming on his eyes,
telling.
No seagreen trees reach down their humming branches,
theirs, ribs, veins,
marrow snuffling like a tape recorder in closed shapes, ellipses, stop signs.
There is nothing else in this highness except the top of the stairs
visible only by the pale yellow light
among their branches. But she (E.)
takes a step up and finds that she is able to walk upward without light or floor.
She ascends slowly
gurgling with blood like the magma-rich globe of an orange
as paupers mine gold from the creases in its lascivious hands
pulsing,
a thumping-fist –
Emily.
This is what she thought of when watching him pacing
around the startling room
his life a convent or convulsion wedged in tangled space,
drifting among his niece’s stuffed animals
But the niece was usually there.
He was not usually alone there.
His webs and wire structures were being trampled by their faces,
the expressions of fear and loathing on these animals.
They sentenced him to march toward an inner forest of changing trees –
[white leaves drumming because grief
was in the leaves.
His otherness wanted to be enslaved by God.
Cicada-like, he would change altitude, babbling.

[srehto ehT - The others]