Gedichte 1853 Und 1854: Zum Lazarus: ‘Einst sah ich viele’
Interpolated 2010
What can you do with a banjo
stray fingers and long tangled hair
when you’re lazy and the moon is full
the scars on her face appear erotic
the brain’s proud smoulder
injecting its drugs into sex organs
the smoke-like tendrils of thought
wrapping themselves around those desires
(or …the brain’s smoke-like hearse
wanting to push it in and get it over
puts the smoulder to the real)
the way a hypodermic enters the skin
(or…the smoke-like brain
is a melting paraffin candle
puts the smoulder to the real)
silver spoon
I’m wretched and lying
the way any prisoner becomes
like an old poem
scratched into stone with fingernails
often a violet burns inside my head
reciting my worst nightmares
like a cloying rhyme
beating into unconsciousness
never fully closed
it all tumbles through a torn membrane
doors where my eyes, ears, mouth, nose
cock and anus
should be
and all lured by nubile seductive strangers
I never regret moonlight in my bed
her pale white scars with no open sores,
a banjo, a memory, a regret
that her pleasures could have been more intense
another cloying poem-thing
never good enough until she begs a quick ending
‘I have a foolish heart?’
Throbbing as it does, down in my loins.
what does that mean
bruising pf flesh against flesh,
sweet, forgetful midnight words?
from such primitive and muted tongues.
Interpolation:
Robert Morpheal
No comments:
Post a Comment