Ceremony
ahistorical fast
you come to me with your fishing game
your hunger for hunger
i might bite
to stir the turmoil of that famous ocean
the subtle friction between his loves
our pretty little law
your holding vibrates like a plucked string
all beauties of the past
swallowed
//
whos a good
i heard a rumor about myself
from you or my long-lost
referential tendency
the scent just strange
like a far-flung purpose
with charred edges
remarkable love
mighty hobbler
good nature
//
ache
daikon & rice vinegar
& kopi & key lime pie
& something i don’t recognize
and everything else
ive eaten at iftar
and everybody laughing
at my stomach-ache
because they know
//
Phaedrus: (as Lysias, cont.)
and they are ready
by speeches and deeds
incurring the hatred of others
to please the beloved ones
// 231ξ
καὶ ἕτοιμοί εἰσι καὶ ἐκ τῶν λόγων καὶ ἐκ τῶν ἔργων τοῖς ἄλλοις ἀπεχθανόμενοι τοῖς ἐρωμένοις χαρίζεσθαι
//
black sesame milk
might //
Phaedrus: (as Lysias, cont.)
that they claim
they most love (philein)
those whom they love (eran)
// 231ξ
ὅτι τούτους μάλιστά φασιν φιλεῖν ὧν ἂν ἐρῶσιν
//
philos and eros
cacao and sea salt
or the dog
//
of the lovely maker and the might of Achilles
i think often of Achilles triple-shot
how he returned to the war before his armor was made
by Hephaestus of the golden-dragging foot
to his naked rage and slaughtered twelve with just his voice
then we are gifted some pretty face of a shield
and as all the seas daughters in threnody behind him
his myriad aunts and his mother verging on hysterical
its light-footed Vulcan tuning weather that i remember
and as amber waves of hair around her loomed fluvial
like civilization swashing blind into the bloodstorm
although material and form were mountainwork and metal
a cetacean iris was blooming around her tectonic teapot
//
rereading book 18 of Homer’s Iliad
Phaedrus: (as Lysias, cont.)
furthermore, if it is worthy
through this (eros and/or the following argument)
to make (poiein)
lovers (eran)
worth much
// 231β
ἔτι δὲ εἰ διὰ τοῦτο ἄξιον τοὺς ἐρῶντας περὶ πολλοῦ ποιεῖσθαι
//
hot fast & the slow burn
eat in the dark
shit quest
love fast
sleep like the sun
die like the day
dream of your almighty face
devouring
in darkness again
//
its sambal tomat
under nights black thread
and the rivermouth on fire
its filling but on isis time
so i haw and fret
to make counter time
for my ligatory chord
for my throwing bones
for the holy month
for otherwise
//
tempe & daun salam
//
🌒
Phaedrus: (as Lysias, cont.)
but to make or do (poiein)
zealously (prothumos)
whatever they suppose
will gratify them (charizomai)
when they have gone through with it (prassein)
// 231β
ἀλλ᾽ ἢ ποιεῖν προθύμως ὅτι ἂν αὐτοῖς οἴωνται πράξαντες χαριεῖσθαι
//
a snorkeling woman
now as the horizon evened and was empty-full
or would you say full-empty
about the shark tank that drew swimmers bled-
blue-traces racing orders round my head
for me the day would gently useless be
a yellowish sea turtle kind of day
and an exhale left me vast and near
down underneath my colder spine of fear
and as what you turned pearlescent grew
the violet dear and clearly breaking you
the cloud-gray whisper and the frothy wave
was toying with your tendered ankle bone
soft undulant sea-crinkled green
like the linen sheen across our fathers bed
as the tinfoil sun was flashing mean
against your pinking arms and shoulderblades
and as the quiet-crowded gloom below
accustomed stinging tears to witlessness
and the broken coral sharper needling
against your shins armorlessness
the looser webs of mer-light gyrating
grew grown inside and tidal-spectacled
and the massless intervening seemed
the famous nobody to prove you whole
what clever lover waiting down the stream
could hold your palace cool and fathoms deep
when the thunder-heading planet-threading way
of the underwater giant was floating
your skin the crizzling rainfall of red sugar
returned to birth a burnt and beautiful nude
and an undertowing current shaped
the lunar fasting of my stone-bone-home
it was just some local princess playing strange
along the undead continental shelf
an honored guest or angel amongst drowned ruins
the snowfall of those dropped and dropping teeth
and as the horizons blueing fuller loomed
like grief in visibility of itself
our rounding eyes were feasted futureless
and we grazed over the desolation of the reef
//
rhymes //
Phaedrus: (as Lysias, cont.)
so with such great evils
stripped away
// 231β
ὥστε περιῃρημένων τοσούτων κακῶν
//
come up to me
there lie the outsiders
who live outside
come up to me
and then close
the door
behind us
i know
not to tell you
everything
i know
immanent
riddlic
like
who sees
but is so rarely seen?
who is the one wounded
whose wounds
don’t show?
the humming
in the blood
says yes,
why not
a zebra print dining room
where no one
can eat
but us
all the questions
the curious one
won’t dare ask
you’d answer
anyway
perpetual
sun like
the japanese jazz scene
still
cool
drawn
to the unbright twilight
drawn
to shades
drawn
the gray supremacy
of fog
filtering out
the valley’s
noise
fool
me once
fool me forever
do the deed
then ditch the girl
and the storm winds
blew wild
//
🌑
//
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Phaedrus: (as Lysias, cont.)
nor (do they) place blame
for differences with relations (prosekein)
(through this)
// 231β
οὔτε τὰς πρὸς τοὺς προσήκοντας διαφορὰς αἰτιάσασθαι
//
inhuman allusion (where)
in shredded shadow hums her corners beastly nerve
end-hounding at the anklets of my wandering
by prowling tigers milk and heat evisceral
cuts lip to tongue amnesiacs re-hysteried word
stalks fear in what like a magician i have bound
blush turns like a trick pony shes ground me into
and if there was a choice that voice has been erased
thigh-hollows skittering rush from goose-flesh alter-flight
laughterless laugh to pique the predatory mask
high valleys ridges brimming overrun of rage
down slouching bowels round rapt plum of panic like
the sparrow silent as a fork in my ribcage
and somewhere in this feckled wilderness her heart
is pounding proud and naked by the rivers dark
on the doubled drums of gods anarchic metaphor
//
warm to a thremma
//
Phaedrus: (as Lysias, cont.)
nor (do they) keep count (hupo-logizomai)
of the troubles (ponos)
that have come and gone (para-erchomai)
(through this)
// 231β
οὔτε τοὺς παρεληλυθότας πόνους ὑπολογίζεσθαι
//
Indras net (what belongs to the familiar)
around her head a sardine circlet
around her foot mortality
around her voice a glittering corset
around her heart a memory
she reflected on the dawnlight
she was setting in her place
she looked sober in the photo
but you couldn’t see her face
eye for eye and cell to cell
did you knot me to be brave
did you tie me from a shoestring
toss my frame across the wave
name the garnet in my cherry
your horizon on the deep deep wine
as i lost count of drowning
for the promise of a rhyme
for your blessed rage to swallow
i was waiting at the altar
and a pearl was burning bitter-sweet
when i tasted your salt water
when i saw you in the restaurant yesterday
and you finally appeared
Indras net was drawing closer
Indras net was catching tears
when you saw that i was deadly
when you wrote my rib in two
i was made and i was unmade
to make better love to you
and every lace undoing
to find the heart of sand
and every mark to fill the worth of a blade
with the imprint of her hand
and every glass was melting thunder
to the predatory corner
and a little death for the purities of power
to the mountain out her window
to the wildflowers evening color
to the sky and sea and weather
to the darker voice that rose
to the horses all untethered
she heard it was one million
she heard one million seven
the circle dreamed it would be easy
the fishes knew it would be heaven
you know my situation
you know what keeps me here
you know ocean is an islands final word
and what belongs to the familiar
//
lyrics for conscience round
music and idea from angles morts
Phaedrus: (as Lysias, cont.)
but for the non-loving (me erosin)
the lack of care taken (a-meleia)
for their own things (oikeios)
through this (eros)
is not used as an excuse (prophasizomai)
// 231β
τοῖς δὲ μὴ ἐρῶσιν οὔτε τὴν τῶν οἰκείων ἀμέλειαν διὰ τοῦτο ἔστιν προφασίζεσθαι
//
heart of sand //
Phaedrus: (as Lysias, cont.)
they suppose long ago
they have paid back the worth of the grace (charis)
to the beloveds (eromenois, pass. part. of eran)
// 231β
ἡγοῦνται πάλαι τὴν ἀξίαν ἀποδεδωκέναι χάριν τοῖς ἐρωμένοις
//