Posts Tagged ‘ mouth ’

▶︎ tidesongs | Hanna Tuulikki, Lucy Duncombe, Alec Finlay

Source: ▶︎ tidesongs | Hanna Tuulikki, Lucy Duncombe, Alec Finlay

Galway Kinnell’s “Little Sleep’s-Head Sprouting Hair in the Moonlight”

Little Sleep’s-Head Sprouting Hair in the Moonlight

1

You scream, waking from a nightmare.

When I sleepwalk
into your room, and pick you up,
and hold you up in the moonlight, you cling to me
hard,
as if clinging could save us. I think
you think
I will never die, I think I exude
to you the permanence of smoke or stars,
even as
my broken arms heal themselves around you.

2

I have heard you tell
the sun, don’t go down, I have stood by
as you told the flower, don’t grow old,
don’t die. Little Maud,

I would blow the flame out of your silver cup,
I would suck the rot from your fingernail,
I would brush your sprouting hair of the dying light,
I would scrape the rust off your ivory bones,
I would help death escape through the little ribs of your body,
I would alchemize the ashes of your cradle back into wood,
I would let nothing of you go, ever,

until washerwomen
feel the clothes fall asleep in their hands,
and hens scratch their spell across hatchet blades,
and rats walk away from the cultures of the plague,
and iron twists weapons toward the true north,
and grease refuses to slide in the machinery of progress,
and men feel as free on earth as fleas on the bodies of men,
and lovers no longer whisper to the presence beside them in the
dark, O corpse-to-be …

And yet perhaps this is the reason you cry,
this the nightmare you wake screaming from:
being forever
in the pre-trembling of a house that falls.

3

In a restaurant once, everyone
quietly eating, you clambered up
on my lap: to all
the mouthfuls rising toward
all the mouths, at the top of your voice
you cried
your one word, caca! caca! caca!
and each spoonful
stopped, a moment, in midair, in its withering
steam.

Yes,
you cling because
I, like you, only sooner
than you, will go down
the path of vanished alphabets,
the roadlessness
to the other side of the darkness,

your arms
like the shoes left behind,
like the adjectives in the halting speech
of old men,
which once could call up the lost nouns.

4

And you yourself,
some impossible Tuesday
in the year Two Thousand and Nine, will walk out
among the black stones
of the field, in the rain,

and the stones saying
over their one word, ci-gît, ci-gît, ci-gît,

and the raindrops
hitting you on the fontanel
over and over, and you standing there
unable to let them in.

5

If one day it happens
you find yourself with someone you love
in a café at one end
of the Pont Mirabeau, at the zinc bar
where white wine stands in upward opening glasses,

and if you commit then, as we did, the error
of thinking,
one day all this will only be memory,

learn,
as you stand
at this end of the bridge which arcs,
from love, you think, into enduring love,
learn to reach deeper
into the sorrows
to come – to touch
the almost imaginary bones
under the face, to hear under the laughter
the wind crying across the black stones. Kiss
the mouth
which tells you, here,
here is the world. This mouth. This laughter. These temple bones.

The still undanced cadence of vanishing.

6

In the light the moon
sends back, I can see in your eyes

the hand that waved once
in my father’s eyes, a tiny kite
wobbling far up in the twilight of his last look:

and the angel
of all mortal things lets go the string.

7

Back you go, into your crib.

The last blackbird lights up his gold wings: farewell.
Your eyes close inside your head,
in sleep. Already
in your dreams the hours begin to sing.

Little sleep’s-head sprouting hair in the moonlight,
when I come back
we will go out together,
we will walk out together among
the ten thousand things,
each scratched too late with such knowledge, the wages
of dying is love.

from The Book of Nightmares by Galway Kinnell

ΚΙΝΟΥΜΕΝΑ ΣΤΟΜΑΤΑ . MOVING MOUTHS | a glimpse of

ΚΙΝΟΥΜΕΝΑ ΣΤΟΜΑΤΑ . MOVING MOUTHS |.

Today’s Haiku June 14, 2014 | Blue Willow Haiku World by Fay Aoyagi

ひきがえるくちをきかずに昼となり  高梨 章

hikigaeru kuchi o kikazu ni hiru to nari

            toad

            without opening its mouth

            noon comes

                                    Akira Takanashi

Fay Aoyagi, translation

from “Shûkan Haiku” (“Haiku Weekly”) #341,  11/3/2014 Issue, http://weekly-haiku.blogspot.com

Today’s Haiku June 14, 2014 | Blue Willow Haiku World by Fay Aoyagi.

The Mouth, the Most Beautiful Cloaca / dbqp: visualizing poetics

Geof Huth, The First Form of Entry # 80 of “A Poetics” (3.17.11); photo: 12.13.11)

The Mouth, the Most Beautiful Cloaca : : http://dbqp.blogspot.com/

A Poetics (# 87 via # 57) : : http://dbqp.blogspot.com/

Visual Poetry Today by Geof Huth : : Poetry Foundation

JUPITER 88: #92: Adam Fitzgerald

JUPITER 88: #92: Adam Fitzgerald.

Paul Celan / Language Mesh (Sprachgitter)

LANGUAGE MESH

Eye’s roundness between the bars.

Vibratile monad eyelid
propels itself upward,
releases a glance.

Iris, swimmer, dreamless and dreary:
the sky, heart-grey, must be near.

Athwart, in the iron holder,
the smoking splinter.
By its sense of light
you divine the soul.

(If I were like you. If you were like me.
Did we not stand
under one trade wind?
We are strangers.)

The flagstones. On them,
close to each other, the two
heart-grey puddles:
two
mouthsfull of silence.

Paul Celan
Michael Hamburger, trans.