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Sawdust And Diamonds

PostPosted: 17 May 2010, 13:32
by milky moon
    from the top of the flight
    of the wide, white stairs
    through the rest of my life
    do you wait for me there?

    there's a bell in my ears
    there's a wide white roar
    drop a bell down the stairs
    hear it fall forevermore

    drop a bell off of the dock
    blot it out in the sea
    drowning mute as a rock;
    sounding mutiny

    there's a light in the wings, hits this system of strings
    from the side while they swing;
    see the wires, the wires, the wires

    and the articulation
    in our elbows and knees
    makes us buckle as we couple in endless increase
    as the audience admires milkymoon

    and the little white dove
    made with love, made with love:
    made with glue, and a glove, and some pliers

    swings a low sickle arc
    from its perch in the dark:
    settle down
    settle down my desire

    and the moment I slept I was swept up in a terrible tremor
    though no longer bereft, how I shook! and I couldn't remember

    then the furthermost shake drove a murdering stake in
    and cleft me right down through my center
    and I shouldn't say so, but I know that it was then, or never

    push me back into a tree
    bind my buttons with salt
    fill my long ears with bees
    praying: please, please, please,
    love, you ought not!
    no you ought not!

    then the system of strings tugs on the tip of my wings
    (cut from cardboard and old magazines)
    makes me warble and rise like a sparrow
    and in the place where I stood, there is a circle of wood
    a cord or two, which you chop and you stack in your barrow

    it is terribly good to carry water and chop wood
    streaked with soot, heavy booted and wild-eyed;
    as I crash through the rafters
    and the ropes and pulleys trail after
    and the holiest belfry burns sky-high

    then the slow lip of fire moves across the prairie with precision
    while, somewhere, with your pliers and glue you make your first incision
    and in a moment of almost-unbearable vision
    doubled over with the hunger of lions
    'hold me close', cooed the dove
    who was stuffed, now, with sawdust and diamonds

    I wanted to say: why the long face?
    sparrow, perch and play songs of long face
    burro, buck and bray songs of long face!
    sing: I will swallow your sadness and eat your cold clay
    just to lift your long face

    and though it may be madness, I will take to the grave
    your precious longface
    and though our bones they may break, and our souls separate
    - why the long face? milkymoon
    and though our bodies recoil from the grip of the soil
    - why the long face?

    in the trough of the waves
    which are pawing like dogs
    pitch we, pale-faced and grave,
    as I write in my log

    then I hear a noise from the hull
    seven days out to sea
    and it is the damnable bell!

    and it tolls - well, I believe, that it tolls - for me!
    it tolls for me!

    though my wrists and my waist seemed so easy to break
    still, my dear, I would have walked you to the very edge of the water
    and they will recognise all the lines of your face
    in the face of the daughter of the daughter of my daughter

    darling, we will be fine, but what was yours and mine
    appears to be a sandcastle that the gibbering wave takes
    but if it's all just the same, then will you say my name:
    say my name in the morning, so I know when the wave breaks?

    I wasn't born of a whistle or milked from a thistle at twilight
    no, I was all horns and thorns, sprung out fully formed, knock-kneed and upright
    so: enough of this terror
    we deserve to know light
    and grow evermore lighter and lighter
    you would have seen me through
    but I could not undo that desire

    oh-oh, oh-oh-oh desire
    oh-oh, oh-oh-oh desire
    oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh desire milkymoon

    from the top of the flight
    of the wide, white stairs
    through the rest of my life
    do you wait for me there?