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Friend/sister,
tell you that the rib
of Adam
was silver, and broken
the voice of minstrels;
to tell you, I say,
that the contours
and the edges of movement
are agitated within the glass,
is to pretend that the dimples
of the image are born
in the distance. Nothing
I know nothing of words, I tell you
that you don't know, and you
know that Adam fell
into the well
and his hands sought
Eve's apple
disguised as a harlequin.
Friend/sister,
the lights of the city
dwindle, fall into gloom,
and shout the lie
in the halls
of power and idleness.
I know nothing of the word
-friend/sister-
that you covet in the night.
I know nothing of the oracles
that cast shadows.
The sun, the sun!
The light, friend/sister
attracts the unwary who look at it,
and the flame reduces him
to ashes - on horseback,
between the raven's wings,
I have seen the tongue of fire
consume the wheat fields
and the waters of the ocean.
Tongue of fire, tongue
tongue of fire!
Friend/sister,
to tell you is to pretend to draw a picture
in the passing wake
of mirrors.
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