Стихотворения Мириам Москона

Ivory Black [BLACK breathing BLACK at the window]

BLACK breathing BLACK at the window
Simultaneous
The interior eye     Opposite watching’s touch
In what is black white
Is by accident      The eye detaches
As it slips from itself
What is black       Like sky
In its scream        Glassed
Spins           In a straight line
Draws along     In a spiral

Explodes
     Isn’t it your dream to be visible?
A luster spins      Atop another
Grows           In buds
        Pierces
The change of season comes
In clarities                Lifts
Airborne                High and low
Like the light      In our touch
    Angelizes
Burnished
           The dark light that skies in whites
And in prayer the refrain repeats
Between nude walls                  Hangs
Window against the emanation:       Open

 

Ivory Black [Dissolves]

Dissolves
In ancient liquids        The black in shimmers
The harp like architecture its strings over unexpected rain
from echo to echo they draw their roughness they stop
If only I could            Seek within lack

     small incisions in the body like a drug they enter
let slip the poison they salivate they seek a place
dream cavity: I am inside it

They graze the air the harp strings
And carry them toward you
They stretch out along the waves   Sustain us
The sluices now open
Crackle in this refraction
Movement toward the stain

What is black breathes black at the window
Where do I listen?
The harp broadcasts
Runaway sensations                 Without roots

Shades of night blue
Between the two of us:         Explode

Ivory Black [Not to speak]

Not to speak
To see and to translate into moans    It’s not pain
To moan from birth
Only the eye and the conquering of a tongue
(that you wanted to say that for the slit?)

  To return toward hearing (to touch oneself) via the
heart is heard slowly
Is guarded like a black poem as if it were an eye
who might rain

Ivory Black [In the white and in the soot]

In the white and in the soot
in the burnt senses of touch I write
before starting the fast

    Forgiveness for what will be and the sun
Remains upon the sun
The calligraphic line at dawn
Makes John uneasy
(how I would have liked to sup with those twelve)
I hear the forgiveness in this scale
followed by a sad adaggieto
The harp            Rain
The horizontal
And may derision fall upon the public square