|Friday, September 24, 2004 - Shaun|
I can't quite make you out
A truck is driving over my eardrums
And the last time we spoke your voice
quivered like a windy wheat field
as you told me how the stars
are like sparks over this burning city.
Did you call me ember and ash?
My translator plays enough tricks with me
without you mumbling through the din.
Did you just tell me that if I jump up into
the bottom of the sky that the space under me
could be halved and halved again
indefinitely so that I'd never touch the ground?
Are you telling me I can fly Bewildra?
The wind whipping the water makes it hard to
Did you tell me that my body is the reed
by which I sound myself?
And that the dark spots on the sun are really
prominences where the sun leaps toward us?
And that you've seen the Christ at sea
on his lonely wooden dagger
unzipping the water
Like Archimedes in his bath?
Did you tell me that when I imagine walking
that my walking muscles contract
Are you speaking to me Bewildra?
Words are untrustworthy rogue-ish vessels...
The U carries in its bowl the mess of its
The O contains multitudes of misinterpretations.
Down here in the atmosfear
Can I trust the voice I barely hear?
I thought I'd reveal you with astronomy
or failing that
Bewildra you are labyrinthine;
I will charm the uncoiled cobra of your spine
when I discover the key
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