Garments

Unflappable and northern windward, dense, leaves and saffron falling,

the spirit, easy, wait for me on every island corner, polyhedric

A cordial girl, affectionate with myself, I take myself by the hand, walking, iron

next to th’ new knot I am

side to side with th’ bow I now am

hand to hand with th’ dog I currently am

I love, yet I don’t see―I dream, yet I unbelieve―Nance tree, plurisolar mango

is all this a goddamn illusion?

talk to me―flower knot

is all this a bland illusion?

is all this a warm and expensive illusion?

Arid and southern leeward, the frozen rain, the dense sulfur jungle, snowflakes

in a jungle, snowflakes

in a jungle, snowflakes

in a jungle

The spirit, easy, wait for me, give me a dense red flute

A cordial boy, affectionate with myself, I take myself by the hand, my hand returns

The bright red flute, cheer me up thrill me caress me flute with your beauty

Blind, yet loving―flying, yet unflying―Nance tree, cherry wood

is all this goddamn natural world―nature?

is all this a bland illusion?

is all this warm and expensive stone?

Nothing is red save the fox, nothing black save the crow, beast of myself

A cordial girl, affectionate with myself, I return from the sown fields like a seedling returnin’ to the dream

"Girl, this shit is truly beautiful”

I tell myself, "all o’ this is crazy beautiful”

A cordial boy, affectionate with myself, I take myself by the hand, I share a halo

With the red flute that I am, with the goddamn black flute that I am

It’s not just a beautiful plant but a present, a gift of the knot, a gift from the god

Dense, yet loving―veiled, yet unveiling―Nance tree, güicoy plant

is all this the nexus that I am?

talk to me―knot of pom

is all this the scheme that I am?

is all this the puppy that I am?

Knots

With the hurricane the star of the instant falls—in the lot tatters are distributed

On day one the freezing wind blows, on day two the salty air seeps into the knot

With no coat and no cape—lone island asking the summer how will we survive the illusion?

On day three off to the countryside—on day four to take one’s feet out of the mud

My wife, my children and I are harvesting the fields of the south, the node rejoices

Curve―

the sky like a hat rises above the day

the land is closed like a plate and done

eighty thousand leagues counted one by one

winter solstice reaching us from far away

Above the sargassum floats the foam of representation, in the lot each one receives his two-weeks’ pay

One day the grace of iron blows, the next the song of the pelagic snake shoos away the knot

My boyfriend carries a beautiful axe, island keeps going faint path discovering poisonous berries

Such fucking long days, pardieu!―on day four we’ll gather sweet potatoes yams

The children’s hearts are sad—the language of the snake, intactile as it is, no

Density―

knot teeming with waste and treasures still knot sprayed with freshness

docile knot sweet knot dark knot motionless mound of tedium

you all envelope it all unfurl your cape your clothes your hair

let it sleep the way a dream sleeps inside the dream

Okay, this month of high tides shoots down the lilies’ fate, then that of the reeds and cane

In the month of mushrooms and wine, we make a pile of branches from the burning thistle

to sculpt ‘em

to erect our aliases upon ‘em

A month later the bundle of wood sings; then, at Chris’mas, we weave

Black and yellow, like the wind. My gleaming knot, for th’ young warrior’s wardrobe

for th’ honeysuckle, for our father th’ volcano, for th’ cicadas and sacrifice of May

Thickness―

nihan nire qui il mio nome

meseruyate senza prezzo

mama nagañiha lira non l’ho comprato

nigundan aü! gioia mia!

gun che

dan sa

tina pori

lau ya nire! to il mio nome!

In Wîdü Hati we harvest, in Dîsi Hati the leaves bud, everything the opposite of normal

By day we hunt deer, by night we gather fox fur for the young woman’s wedding

At the end of summer, we celebrate the deeds of our men linked together

Wîdü Hati under the manaca-palm ledges, Dîsi Hati in front of the French and English doors

Dûsu Hati, the cricket comes into our bed—if we let him, he’ll stay until the rains come

Ecliptic―

rescue us fate with that dream power of thine

reveal this suture’s truth and let it be

remove the rational from the design

so we’ll see the sea clearly the pure sea

separate the apparent from the true

don’t shroud our existence in perfection

make this open sea an open mirror  

your radiant splendor’s full reflection

rules over us endless unreal view

guides us past ignorance to revelation

our salvation is tied and moored to you

free us from our own instantiation  

give us inert light so our way’s clearer

your annex for our cohabitation.

My lover and my offspring say―“Nex’ year, we’ll be gettin’ for good into some awesome secret.”

High Tide

The sound of the sparrow, the sparrow’s horn, the lush chururuti duna

has made a hole in my roof, has perfumed my border, has hastened my confinement

He grew up in the central valley, his chirps perch on bushes, prolongable

He’s knit my clothes, he’s cut my flowers, he’s washed me gently like some li’l creature

Even so, in the breach of rites—even so—boy and sparrow are born

The cattle protects us, they put us in a forest that’s flat flat flat, men cut it down

We position ourselves in the chasm, the bed, the cold—even so—the birds cover us with their wings

I say goodbye, li’l fish, bye, I say to the god—“god why did you give me these stained clothes”

We crawl full of confidence, looking for sustenance, we confidently sow

They still warble, they still grind, still the vapor floats, still the grasses plan for the expected harvests

The byssus of the hive, the intelligence of the bee, the exuberant peach tree

Has made of me an available body, a shot through body, an immaterial body

Then who said reason has no teeth if it has hollowed out my house

Has faced off against my wall, has disfigur’d my humidity?

The knot doesn’t shine—even so—it maintains its order: to think of the great noises of the past

That cut the waves, that piled up the branches, that gave life to this kingdom

Some warble, others grind, some hurl, others step—“let it be high tide, pure light”

We crawl full of confidence, we search in our minds, in this tether of ours

the shirt is wide, you can’t swim across it

—its seam is long, you can’t measure its width.