1
Who could speak the language
of Gods, and remain forgotten yet
unloved, a sailor
who dreamt of bridging the wings
of the earth, the blind
man who survived the sirens
and remained aloof and well known on the shore.

2
I swung in the rain in Hades
and torched the warrior’s burgh in windy Troy.
I cried over the misery
of a stone forgotten me, a solitary
woman in solitary confinement,
the sun of a day askew, a skeleton
waving, a bird in the pink afternoon,
my sigh shimmering towards the horizon…

3
Fires shrieked!
My chorus burst forth
and all wishes evaporated
into the all-knowing, faded margin.

4.
Storm raging inside,
my head aching out
a grain of salt
in this driblet of blood.

5
Et vous… pagans who gnawed my manuscripts,
listen to the wind of centuries
tangling the strings of a gaggle of pissed off gods.

6
Unloved, peckish heart!
Rainy absence on the shore
become my name!

7
I saw these images
on the bloodied road:
first: me falling to my knees.
Second: back on my feet, struggling.
Third: the lips of Judas.

8
Words speak
silence, not lust nor
curses, emptying
in darkness, fragmented, apart.
My nothingness, announced.

9
Everything was said,
phrases like crushed glass in the mouth,
heard only as lies,
if heard at all.

10
As I trudge through the light-trickled night
I wonder why, is it just me,
my heavens, my uncalmed darkness.