Christine Murray

Post-Interlude

‘Once

　

I heard him

he was washing the world,

unseen, nightlong, real.

　

One and infinite,

annihilated,

ied.

　

Light was. Salvation.’

-- Paul Celan

　

　

a gift of Bataille's poems

cock balls spurt penis-eye

　

rubbing up

a / vulva

　

his great brass bell ringin'

as he attempts to tongue

woman(s) soul/ at her hole

　

his own (...)

a transference of

the empty eye/ I

　

of

penis

into the i

of ied,

　

and cold through.

　

to arise

skin-to-skin

maybe,

　

but there is no more

blood - cock it !

--

Scene I : sphinx

　

cat properly addressed as riddle is a sphinx,

toothed warm fur claw (ed)

　

nobly in-dreaming he (of heads?)

or of mice maybe (and not silently)

　

lover not properly addressed

too dreams (elsewhere from here)

　

he dreams gold or red heads (emanant)

emanant: for their reddish auras are tumbrelled

he fingers red…

　

yes.

　

sphinx cat lies on my egyptian cottons,

I find the heads.

　

& my lover’s red

is a wish-tree

--

　

Scene 2 : the goldberg variations

　

that indestructible piano!

the undestroyed Goldbergs are playing (again)

　

wending their tones above a skatepark of bullet-glass

the melodies play, yes

　

I see that :

the romans had left their life-size eggs and urns below the city

my stitches pull and sting on the underside of my elbow (pain)

　

softening the blow here and here you tell me that

　

there is no stitching (as again) there was no magician -

he is always the hanged man (stasis)

　

or as you (may have) whispered, mercury -