The shadow is all one, the sky
throbs now along with the ocean,
and sky and shadow erupt
in the crash of their vast conflict.
All night long they struggle;
nobody knows the name
of the harsh light that keeps slowly opening
like a languid fruit.
So on the coast comes to light,
out of seething shadow, the harsh dawn,
gnawed at by the moving salt,
swept clean by the mass of night,
bloodstained in its sea-washed crater.
Similar Posts
Neither clown nor child nor black
and a questioning innocencedressed in night and snow:The mother smiles at the sailor,the fisherman at the astronaunt,but the child child does not smilewhen he looks at the bird child,and from the disorderly oceanthe immaculate passengeremerges in snowy mourning.I was without doubt the child birdthere in the cold archipelagoeswhen it looked at me with its eyes,with…
Mara Mori brought me
which she knitted herselfwith her sheepherder’s hands,two socks as soft as rabbits.I slipped my feet into themas if they were two casesknitted with threads of twilight and goatskin,Violent socks,my feet were two fish made of wool,two long sharkssea blue, shot throughby one golden thread,two immense blackbirds,two cannons,my feet were honored in this wayby these heavenly…
Perhaps not to be is to be without your being,
like a blue flower, without your passinglater through fog and stones,without the torch you lift in your handthat others may not see as golden,that perhaps no one believed blossomedthe glowing origin of the rose,without, in the end, your being, your comingsuddenly, inspiringly, to know my life,blaze of the rose-tree, wheat of the breeze:and it follows…
Brown and agile child, the sun which forms the fruit
Has made your happy body and your luminous eyesAnd given your mouth the smile of water.A black and anguished sun is entangled in the twigsOf your black mane when you hold out your arms.You play in the sun as in a tidal riverAnd it leaves two dark pools in your eyes.Brown and agile child, nothing…
I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all dayI hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.I hunger for your sleek laugh,your hands the color of a savage harvest,hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely…
The light that rises from your feet to your hair,
are not mother of pearl, not chilly silver:you are made of bread, a bread the fire adores.The grain grew high in its harvest of you,in good time the flour swelled;as the dough rose, doubling your breasts,my love was the coal waiting ready in the earth.Oh, bread your forehead, your legs, your mouth,bread I devour, born…