When this poetry was published, I wrote:<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n The shift that took place within me after my \"loss\" is evident in this poetry. My point of view of this world is different. My sense of the world and existence is like a dark crystal reflecting the invisible aspects of my soul. Those deep water fields are where the dreams grow. And my sleep now has a crystal clear view, from where I can see. I'm letting go. That's it. I feel like I'm letting go. This transparent sleep with my dreams of reaching the other life brings me ever closer to the \"forbidden\" knowledge I seek.<\/p>\n The cicadas still upon the leaves This is how i will depart bearing Junes This is how I will carry on evangelising From the open window the night I lay down to sleep in heaven And here I am like an old house I am light as a house fallen asleep Full of shipwrecks and old heavens.<\/p>\n ***<\/p>\n I asked nothing from your gifts<\/em><\/h4>\n
Ode fifth, <\/strong><\/em> The announcing voice<\/strong><\/em><\/h4>\n
\nAnd the waters speaking under my body
\nWith perfumes of an erotic night
\nNaked memory of the world<\/p>\n
\nAnd as an icon that's gotten old
\nAnd smells of a saint's cloth
\nI will lay out my parts
\nFractured
\nSo that one by one out of them
\nThe centuries of Sibylla will emerge
\nAnd all the unknown inscriptions will scent
\nTender
\nContaining the Impossible
\nLike the drop of blood that contains
\nThe abyss with the seven angels
\nThose who are tender
\nAnd the voice the one who evangelises<\/p>\n
\nUntil my last drop of blood
\nThe one alight on a silver candlestick
\nAnd from the open window
\nThe storm rages
\nHauls of prophecies on my body
\nFlowing towards unknown ruins
\nWhere the hidden sun burns them.<\/p>\n
\nAscending
\nAnd my room floats full of stars
\nIridescent by the Invisible<\/p>\n
\nAnd my dreams phosphorescent
\nWith fragments of unknown memory
\nSince
\nPlato signed my identity
\nWith a sky blue seal
\nAnd with an angel's wing for the road<\/p>\n
\nWith creaking floors
\nAnd from the storm's window
\nI smell the silver of my angel
\nWho stands sleepless on the eaves<\/p>\n
\nWith all the faucets running
\nI bathe in full moon
\nAnd listen to the ghosts at night
\nThat inhabit me for centuries now
\nMoving restlessly in my sleep<\/p>\n
\nOnly a handful of earth to stand<\/em>
\nAnd a gust of spring to love<\/em>
\nTo fly away with the birds like youth<\/em>
\nAnd with a full moon<\/em>
\nAn endless night in June<\/em>
\nTo roll again on pine needles<\/em>
\nI asked for nothing<\/em>
\nI only stood facing you<\/em>
\nA rose sprang on the prophesy's rock<\/em>
\nAnd on my clay the angel has blown thrice<\/em>
\nThe Notional Sun<\/em>
\nTo evangelize the Desert<\/em><\/p>\n