Element
from the unspeakable contingencies of time (a poetry for sisterhood)
(all, at least
it said)
then by me, these two voices en-joined let be,
to we, sisters in offering promise and prayer
as slight temper to make the passing storms
for held jointly, in common, though wounds, in-
deed, in kinship be, of beloveds, the poems
and a spoken word, silent heretofore — koina
my pieces impart, as you impart, as we impart
as parts - carried - apart of ones-being-in-love
by toils and grief and all-possible-turns
now to share it, O world, we let her be sung
the wind-gathering-song of our broken heart
. . .
(therefore)(or certainly not) beautifully by you
(does it seem)(do you seem)(seem you) to be said,
and do you accept
the word?
(πάνυ γε
ἔφη)
οὐκοῦν καλῶς σοι
δοκεῖ λέγεσθαι
καὶ ἀποδέχῃ
τὸν λόγον
Charmides 156ξ
//
καὶ ἐμοὶ ταῦτα συνεύχου
κοινὰ γὰρ τὰ τῶν φίλων
Phaedrus 279ξ
mogis pos
🌓
as harmonium despair (we trial six-handed instruments) as immortalities
exhalation:
we need every breath you give
we must bind it with our own
so the One receives our dyad
inhalation:
(word being soul)
instrument:
by through-takings, would you shelter me,
O whistling, flute-playing-Pan,
through the body of a child,
through-bodied-father
embodying the all —
turnings-conjoined-
round O whole-
playing-part
grown-in, would you put-on your hands?
chord:
to take care is to hold
sisters crying-out
in-visibles
to cure
//
ἐκ δὴ
τούτου τοῦ λόγου
διαίταις
ἐπὶ πᾶν
τὸ σῶμα
τρεπόμενοι
μετὰ τοῦ ὅλου
τὸ μέρος
ἐπιχειροῦσιν
θεραπεύειν τε
καὶ ἰᾶσθαι
156ξ
//
mogis pos
the unheard-of sailing
beautifully at least are you, and you,
and we, even me, as we bow to the Muse,
from silence, to work, to make music.
for far more by you and her tresses of blue
shall we speak freely and fluently flow
round her sea-song, along, on the leaf,
of what sort me and you happen to be
being, she sings and she whispers it slow,
an unheard-of sailing, through the distance.
but just now, were becalmed, were in irons.
which turn of the tide or twist of a rope,
which way of the wind, from Delos the boat,
by teeth of a goat on his own green grass,
how would we, under grey, manifesto for you
the impasse, the power, all her own.
cause shes full of it too. kompsos
like the chomp on her bridal-white jib
of a child, crocodile, laughing.
καλῶς γε σύ
ἦν δ᾽ ἐγώ
ποιῶν
μᾶλλον γάρ σοι
παρρησιάσομαι
περὶ τῆς ἐπῳδῆς
οἵα τυγχάνει οὖσα
ἄρτι δ᾽
ἠπόρουν τίνι τρόπῳ
σοι ἐνδειξαίμην
τὴν δύναμιν αὐτῆς
156α
cf Phaedo 99ξ-δ
ritual persuasion
and he says,
then i shall write it down,
beside you,
the song.
but whether
(all of this is)
we being irreducible . . .
if you persuade me,
or even if not?
maybe (all of this is) really
just we being incorrigible?
(me and you, we-women laugh, and hes laughing too)
(i remember when you tasked me a simian-similar-ask)
(oh, its very important to him-and-us that this all be light-
hearted-funny. her laughter is the sound of the ego, dead
and dying many times over)(inside comedy inside tragedy
inside comedy until he is goodly dead)(tears our witness
as the armor of its insanity protects the truth)(humor is
the most difficult to carry. the loss of the comedy portion
of Aristotles poetics kills us here, but one thing i remember
he says — i dont have time to find the exact line, but did
you know, that poor Aristotles books werent written by him,
but reconstructed from lecture notes? well, one of the most
funny-being things was animals acting like humans, i ass-
umed also humans acting like animals. but i remember us
laughing at how un-funny that was.)(i said to the mask-
maker, isnt every mask a monkey mask?)(love, i demand
he agree)
if i-we persuade you-we,
he says,
O Socrates.
okay, okay. we
let we-being irreducible.
and the name of me,
which i-we will call,
would you-we perfect it?
if not, injustice
is we-without-you,
he says.
for yours is not some oligos logos
amongst we of the leaf.
but i
as being a child (make-music perfect tension relief)
by the names (which have been diverse and wild)
by the dresses (often inappropriately we-coded)
by the beach (and her sunrise you already kissed)
by the valley (and her cooling rivers i already miss)
by all of this here (& the seventh letter in my first)
always-already-remember-together-being-you
καὶ ὅς
Ἀπογράψομαι τοίνυν
ἔφη
παρὰ σοῦ τὴν ἐπῳδήν
πότερον
ἦν δ᾽ ἐγώ
ἐάν με πείθῃς
ἢ κἂν μή
γελάσας οὖν
ἐάν σε πείθω
ἔφη
ὦ Σώκρατες
εἶεν
ἦν δ᾽ ἐγώ
καὶ τοὔνομά μου
σὺ ἀκριβοῖς
εἰ μὴ ἀδικῶ γε
ἔφη
οὐ γάρ τι σοῦ ὀλίγος λόγος ἐστὶν
ἐν τοῖς ἡμετέροις ἡλικιώταις
μέμνημαι δὲ ἔγωγε
καὶ παῖς ὢν
Κριτίᾳ τῷδε
συνόντα σε
156α
//
mogis pos
🌑
kudianerotesia (if man is mortal then what am i)
my eyes the sea to see
inside the armor of a dress
fire-setting-me
no longer in myself
they are it is
i am i say
i hold
as it were my law
the wisest to be
this englorification of we
by Love
εἶδόν τε
τὰ ἐντὸς τοῦ ἱματίου
καὶ ἐφλεγόμην
καὶ οὐκέτ᾽ ἐν ἐμαυτοῦ
ἦν
καὶ ἐνόμισα σοφώτατον εἶναι
τὸν Κυδίαν τὰ ἐρωτικά
155δ
Critias calls
to the follower
and at once to the follower — Child
he was saying
(beauty)call(and
always be calling)
Charmides
καὶ ἅμα πρὸς τὸν ἀκόλουθον Παῖ
ἔφη
κάλει
Χαρμίδην
to the graveyard woman (who keeps his kid) (goat)
saying that i wish
(with)by the doctor
(you)to put it(self) together
(around)about the (she)weakness
of which before
(it)was telling(laying) me
that (it)(you)(are)weak
εἰπὼν ὅτι βούλομαι αὐτὸν
ἰατρῷ
συστῆσαι
περὶ τῆς ἀσθενείας
ἧς πρῴην
πρός με ἔλεγεν
ὅτι ἀσθενοῖ
and the blanket on his bed (small print re: freckles)
guess im on vacation yall
being told nothing
the valley out
dont forget to use sun protection
get your skin check
at the dermatolologist
sh(weakness)
🌕 x 3
alone on earth
on a plastic-woven recliner
on the garbage-strewn beach
as dawn reaches across the sea
her icy fingers peach and violet
that my iphone cant capture
not only because its broken
after seven years of coercion
i am surrounded by beach dogs
wagging tails and paws searching
me for snacks and company which
i surrender as i pat and scratch many
ears and necks and sleek black faces
and nuzzles of muzzles into my arms
they bury me in studious welcome
the poet was blind so hes
brushed by the rosy fingers
hes drinking the wine-dark sea
the sunrise of such sweet dreams
as momentary pouring out on me
me and all of these excitable dogs
its shocking hot-pink allusion
//
altogether(yes) at least
(he) Critias was saying
(since)(you are) (by you)(look you) and (he) is
both a lover of wisdom and
as it seems both to others and to (it)(him)self
altogether poetical
καὶ πάνυ γε
ἔφη ὁ Κριτίας
ἐπεί τοι καὶ ἔστιν
φιλόσοφός τε καί
ὡς δοκεῖ ἄλλοις τε καὶ ἑαυτῷ
πάνυ ποιητικός
154ε
ocean the willbending
if a lyre already stripped
is down to this (your)self itself
then dont we gaze upon
sheer human (im)possibility
for anyhow, somehow
he is, you are (what then)
so grown (as) being already
pleasures willing dialogue
//
what then
i said
dont (we) strip this (him)self itself
and gaze (at it)
before the form
for anyhow
somehow
(he is)(you are)
so grown (as) being
already (pleasures) willing to dialogue
τί οὖν
ἔφην
οὐκ ἀπεδύσαμεν αὐτοῦ αὐτὸ τοῦτο
καὶ ἐθεασάμεθα
πρότερον τοῦ εἴδους
πάντως γάρ που
τηλικοῦτος ὢν
ἤδη ἐθέλει διαλέγεσθαι
154ε
myth of the selfish midwife
selfish, ungrateful
manipulative, greedy
inconsiderate woman
the sea is a selfish midwife
this poem comes to me, as he
is saying something else
her puckered source of salt draws out
like purgatory the glistening thread
of all my mouthy, breezy sins
her crashing whites are drawing nearer
and bringing forth a warmer roaring
her blues will dominate the world-under
even the maskmakers handsome face
with dancing with her distance cant compete
none other would appear
(instinctively my husband takes
out the surfboard and somehow my eyes
are lost between breakers
(now the man has set up a beach office
collecting pieces of coral and driftwood
for future homes for orchids
(as he is practicing a bamboo flute
i notice his wild and silvery hair
his carving arms, his shoulders framed with care
(his body, copper-brown in the dappled shade
it could be mine and not too far away
in udeng and a black sarung . . . )
but the point of being at the sea
is being at the sea, so i give up
i leave my towel and my things behind
and i rush into her jade-blue embrace
its just me, bare and pink under the sun
and all of me belongs to her
until he follows me into the waves
where he receives
whats his
//
and somehow its (conspicuously) fitting
O Critias
(for) him(self) to be such
at least being of yalls house
but
he said
(he) is perfectly beautiful and good
too (in) these (things)
πρέπει δέ που
ὦ Κριτία
τοιοῦτον αὐτὸν εἶναι
τῆς γε ὑμετέρας ὄντα οἰκίας
ἀλλ᾽
ἔφη
πάνυ καλὸς καὶ ἀγαθός ἐστιν καὶ ταῦτα
154εf
anima lover
be
be still
if still to me
still to my body
one (releasing and binding
and needful and releasing) alone
(you) happen(s) to be drawing near
you feel my heart(beat)
its some small tempest
our little sea in a bigger sea
where there is no shallow
the light never goes out
only my color changes
you make it easy
when you open me
your iamb oyster
the sky is full of pearls
and one small cry to let
you know youre really in
if (she)(they were)(it was)i
was(saying) (you)happen(s)
well (having)brought forth
life-breath
//
if still to him(self)
one
releasing and binding
needful and releasing
alone
happens (to be) drawing near
some small (what)
what said (he) Critias
if (she)
(they were)(it was)i was(saying)
(you)happen(s) well (having)brought forth
life-breath
εἰ ἔτι αὐτῷ
ἓν δὴ μόνον
τυγχάνει προσὸν
σμικρόν τι
τί; ἔφη ὁ Κριτίας
εἰ τὴν ψυχήν
ἦν δ᾽ ἐγώ
τυγχάνει εὖ πεφυκώς
154δ
//
psuche
american shade (lost verse)
where i wait a stranger shape
every wave is washing dry and clear
a seashell is a hollow place
an island is an ariel escape
hibiscus flowers are growing near
i put one behind my ear
taste the battle, taste the fear
and when the wind blows straight through here
salt in the chorus
//
and the others were really same-saying
same as these with Chaerephon
i, Heracles, was saying
as (one) battle-less
(unconquerable)
yall speak of the man
συνέφασαν οὖν καὶ οἱ ἄλλοι
ταὐτὰ ταῦτα τῷ Χαιρεφῶντι
κἀγώ Ἡράκλεις ἔφην
ὡς ἄμαχον
λέγετε
τὸν ἄνδρα
154δ
//
at the beach
for Cancer season
🌗
my beauty and her body (nightdiving)
i.
my beauty, a green-haired, green-
breasted mermaid, goes diving
at night, for him
the younger i become
the more my body needs him
the more of me belongs to him
as a girl, i carried a memory
of breathing (in
and out
and dying, for him
and out
and down) into the fear, i carry
my memory of you
cool cells makeout warm blackness
your fish glistens for the light
my listeners listen for
i float around your parts, so delicate
my cinammon-green lips
dont trust the stars
ii.
my beauty is a woman of middle-age
her body is a school of fish
and the (part), our (part)
the (part) yielding to (his) man
(was yielding to) the wondrous
(they were)(i was saying)
but i also for (all) the children
i(they) offer mind(fulness)
how not one at another of them
(selves)(it) is looking
nor even whoever is the smallest
(they were)(i was saying)
but all as at an idol (our parts)
are gazing at (him)self
//
καὶ τὸ μὲν ἡμέτερον
τὸ τῶν ἀνδρῶν ἧττον
θαυμαστὸν
ἦν
ἀλλ᾽ ἐγὼ καὶ τοῖς παισὶ
προσέσχον τὸν νοῦν
ὡς οὐδεὶς ἄλλοσ᾽
ἔβλεπεν αὐτῶν
οὐδ᾽ ὅστις σμικρότατος
ἦν
ἀλλὰ πάντες ὥσπερ ἄγαλμα
ἐθεῶντο αὐτόν
🌒
when god comes through (the family)
whats aorist is prologue proves
whats epilogue too poor
my past-progressive cousin turns
world future-perfect war
my uncle means the tyranny
what notes a slippery noose
what wills the wise unwilling wipes
my riverrunny nose a name of Zeus
//
Charmides
the son
of Glaucon
our uncle(godproblem)
and my cousin
Χαρμίδην
τὸν τοῦ Γλαύκωνος
τοῦ ἡμετέρου θείου ὑόν
ἐμὸν δὲ ἀνεψιόν
(i)(have seen and) know (him) of course
(flow)by Zeus
(i am)(they are) i say
οἶδα μέντοι
νὴ Δία
ἦν δ᾽ ἐγώ
//
family tree
one
the wise only
(to be) called un-wills
and wills Zeus
name
🌘
cakewalk wyrm
fully here, Scorpio on fire, desire
that leash, your name, the tether-flame to tie
me to it, body to my well, the tight-
rope pulling is a verdant death-rape game
of a gemstone-encrusted whether force
recoiling howl inside a leather word
inside the naked thing, and the wing will
be tipped, he will enter the gymnasium
a gnawing question, hour, what is a who
without the hollow, willing, who is the what
without a whip, feather, let my lip
suck it out, daddy, let my nerve drip
and swerving slip the girl awake, winner
enough to make her winter-tender bowl
sing, never his song enough, ever
the pelvis for a manifest parade
to lead a pussy through the willow, dance
me round the mountain, wind-out of a plum
prison, iamb virgin, i am vision
iamb-submission of a cakewalk wyrm
//
but (he) is
(i am) (they are) i say
who and of whom (or what)
ἔστιν δέ
ἦν δ᾽ ἐγώ
τίς τε καὶ τοῦ
154α
witch in the fire department
hid underneath my flowy dresses draped
in cool blues and soothing beachy tones —
i cant help it, i confess it, father —
i am a woman on fire.
and when i spy them entering a door
i watch their simple, rugged carelessness
and how they handle one anothers
bodies beyond all clothes or covers . . .
as leaves are born in screaming reds
and oranges each wicked September,
so i am born again into this burning
and my roaring flesh becomes the tinder —
and if i cry for help, it only brings them closer —
this crucible — my rose garden — a hose, for water —
//
and Critias
looking towards the door
seeing some young men entering
and (playing?) abusing one another
and another crowd following in the rear
καὶ ὁ Κριτίας
ἀποβλέψας πρὸς τὴν θύραν
ἰδών τινας νεανίσκους εἰσιόντας
καὶ λοιδορουμένους ἀλλήλοις
καὶ ἄλλον ὄχλον ὄπισθεν ἑπόμενον
horses into Potidaea
as orders taken, given. your hands
across my escalating
surface. unrolling
her
slight
resistance. as
i grow dependent on the flow
and pressure. here, faint
ridges. your soft uneven. catch,
drag,
time,
deposit. yours
until lazy again. until we depart,
until we let loose
the battle. they had
been born into Potidaea.
//
slight
until we depart
until we let loose
the battle
they had been born
into Potidaea
(her) this very moment they were (surfeit)
by this(her) those having learned it(her)
// 153β
Ὀλίγον
ἐγεγόνει
ἐν τῇ Ποτειδαίᾳ
ἣν ἄρτι ἦσαν οἱ
τῇδε πεπυσμένοι
black milk glass
i look down at the body
to see what shape its in.
earth-born son, turquoise slap
of my mother against the golden-
bangled mother. i let them come.
my dark tongues flickering, my heads
Cancerian fire. every tip would touch you.
the shoulders of a bull, eyelashes lower
over tender pools obsidian. im a cow.
a ticket to the fight. my velvet
suit. warm press of skin.
i drink, i let it come.
dragging behind its un-
translatable blade.
//
Socrates: (in Charmides, cont.)
and in that same spot
i (they) take hold altogether of many
those (on the one hand) unknown by me
those (on the other hand) the most thoroughly-known
// 153α