Prophecy

There,
Where adventure keeps clear its eye
Where women are shining forth with language
Where death is beautiful in your hand as a bird
milky time
Where the subterranean passage through its own
genuflecting gathers a wealth of eyelids fiercer than caterpilars
Where for the wonder it’s all grist and fire to the nimble mill

Where the vigorous night is bloody killing a speed of pure plantings

Where bee-like stars string the sky of a hive glowing
more brightly than night
Where the sound of my heels fills up the space and
draws up the other way round the face of Time
Where the rainbow of my word is in charge to joining
Tomorrow to Hope, and the Infante to the Queen.

For having insulted my masters bitten the sultan’s soldiers
For having bemoaned my fate in wilderness
For having shouted calls at my guards
For having beseeched jackals and hyenas shepherds of caravans

I am watching at
smoke rushing ahead like a wild horse on the
foreground frings for one instant the lava
of its frail peacock’s trail then tearing
off its shirt on a sudden open its breast and
I look at it mimicing the british islands
islets jagged rocks melting together little
by little into the lucid sea of the air
where are prophetic bathing
my ghoul
my rebellion
my name.

Για την αντιγραφή

Intuition