“L’arbre aveugle vers l’arbre étend ses membres sombres, 

Et cherche affreusement l’arbre qui disparaît…”


Paul Valéry





when i stood and wept for her before the icon

of the brain

the calf was sleeping








i found the most wonderful street of lindens

i wandered in parks and gardens

in disturbances of green

in nettles

in the most untended gardens in Europe

my surprise was that i write in english







where the calf had lain down in its skin to sleep 

it was a horse then

leaping sideways

shaking the shadow of soil

no leaf bract moving







fell slowly from the saddle

its smell of wet leather

in treed disturbances of green







what names did i give

those lonely words

before they repeated me?

aside from an outcry

a task of home

my interior vigilant naturally as a horse

on scented pavement




my throat awake in the street of lindens

we both have known a grace of horses

our plea 

to cross the soil


i woke up from that sleep then

honoured her

and only wept now, eight months later


when i stood before the horse 

whose speech foreshortened

is all throat 

faceless in the linden city

its right ear sewn inward







the unmemntioable

hills horses dreams trout yews  ____



linden stamens yellowed fallen

rest silent on wet roofs

where we have reigned


as love is, home is

(the name of Heidegger appears nowhere)

at the icons of the brain, i stood and wept 

in veneration

and shouldered her as horse

as welter



one last time please lift us skyward

calf and stamen


suddenly we are bound by laws that avow the body 

habeas corpus ad subjiciendum,

“tu devras avoir un corps à montrer”

je te montre mon corps


an enigma in the cells

plasma cells yews horses

a walk in light on a street of lindens

the inside

of the brain

lit blue 


its icon that they moved on-screen in 3D blue to show me

i wanted to be brave then / to open us / to waking fully


in the book its throat cut wide by a maddened robber

the boy held tight the horse’s neck 

and pressed a hand there

to beg its body not to die

there was a river

and clay to staunch the flow

we have neither 

how many times i have written this river before you

(throat i touch with just a gaze)

(aches me)

(i raise up these arms)

(extend my hand)


(mom, you are this horse

this calf 

i am this girl or boy)



“in the past week i thought hopefully about the future”

“it’s beautiful this oh doubling, this freeing and dislodging of time”

“then you can pick rhubarb from this very garden”

“our mad telluric limbs”

“the printed band that represents her true length and girth and the measure of her foot”

“where the calf has shuddered, sleeping”

i found the most astonishing street of lindens

i wandered in parks and gardens

in disturbances of green

in rain on roses

in camadas of stamens blown from trees

in the lush arboreal majesty of jun

in the paseo along the rivers and in the camposantos

in the most untended gardens in Europe

i wake with my arms and opened shoulder

the grass grows high and viburnum blooms and linden stamens fall as rain










Berlin, Europe

17 June 2007



i sew the alphabet shut too

a to b, facing

ab to cd, facing

o to a, facing

i to u, o, un




the unmemntioable

dignity, observation, doubt 

face us:

je te montre mon corps



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