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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476632" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>I Flesh Your Spirit Out In Starmud</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I flesh your spirit out in starmud. No creator. <br>No created. Between the leaf and the sky <br>I mix the colour of your eyes on the palette<br>of a rainbow that let's the darkness <br>sit at the same fire it does. Because the spirit is free. <br>I hang crescent moons from your earlobes.<br>I release the sacred deltas of small night creeks <br>into your veins, and talk to deserts on the moon <br>about the manes of sidereal lions for your hair. <br>I search the darkening hills at night for a black rose <br>with eyelids as cool as mushrooms, and lips, <br>that are more the wings of auguries, birds and bows<br>disappearing into the distance to imagine you<br>than they are the words and arrows <br>of a flightless heart dipped in stars that don't ignite.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I'm a blind man in a room, painting eyes, <br>trying to grow flowers out of last year's fragrances, <br>interpret every syllable and sacred pixel <br>of your red ochre glyphs of lipstick <br>I used to bury myself in when I lived in caves with bears <br>and rubbed the stuff all over my face<br>like blood and corn flowers under the hearthstone. <br>Now I'm a dragon rising from my urn of ashes <br>like a volcano of serpent-fire out of the chrysalis <br>of my crystal skull, looking for signs, hints, clues, <br>any whisper of linear B as to who you are <br>in the shadows of the sundials of the mountains <br>you go walking with at night with your dogs. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the stars you must see in the clear-eyed desert<br>when the temperature drops and all you've got <br>to keep you warm from the inside out is not <br>you in my arms, but this small dropp of blood <br>in our chests, this cosmic thermometer of a heart<br>on the night ward of a perilous greenhouse. <br>And I went to a cactus with thorns like a voodoo doll <br>with oracular powers to ask about the shape <br>of the body I should root you in like an hourglass in sand<br>and she said to me, a rootless peach tree on the moon. <br>And ever since, I've touched your skin <br>with eyes at the end of my fingertips<br>like a new world gnostic gospel for the blind<br>that can see you in the flesh, naked, sublime <br>like a desert island it would be worth drowning for<br>just to be washed up on the curvature of your dunes <br>like a starfish when the mind comes back to its senses <br>like the first sign of life on the moon in a long time. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">You emerge like wild irises of hydrogen out of <br>this cloud of unknowing, this cocoon of nebularity <br>like one star among many in an almost perfect vacuum.<br>I can see you. I can almost taste you. I can feel <br>your last lover trying to squeeze into the chrysalis<br>of the infinite straitjacket of your last exorcism<br>as if he'd finally run out of dawns as alibis <br>for why he didn't want to leave just yet. Who <br>hasn't stood in the doorway of Orion <br>sinking down in the west? For some <br>the threshold's the longest part of the journey<br>and they make a nadir of everything at zenith <br>by letting their horizons down like a crosswalk<br>waiting for a change of colour blind traffic lights<br>that don't know, for all that Stop. Go. Maybe so., <br>anymore about passage than the road does<br>or a starmap that always certain of where it's going<br>but never has a reason why it should <br>jump the gun like a star and get ahead of its light <br>like a car on a long dark dusty country road at night, <br>one headlight out, trying not to hit a doe <br>in the glare of the sun at midnight <br>on its way out of town, whether that's up, down, <br>or omnidirectionally radiant as the Pleiades in tears. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Drift and mingle, merge, enhance, <br>dance, glance, shadow and glow, <br>still more ghost around you than I am a mirror, <br>I know what it means to be summoned to a seance<br>and not know what to wear. What lifemask to put on <br>like a Mason jar full of fireflies trying to decide <br>what constellation has the fewest short circuits in it <br>and is the least likely to lead anyone astray <br>when the lights go on and off like a fickle tranformer <br>or a Cepheid variable that was just born that way. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And here, now, your ears and your hands, your arms<br>and bones of your own that don't owe a thing <br>to anyone else's bird cage after the bird has flown. <br>And now I think I've got the eyes just right <br>but it's the heart calling its rivers back to it <br>like the sea I can't quite find the likeness of <br>even when I appeal to the most ancient galaxies<br>in the Hubble mirror for a similitude of love <br>that might serve as the understudy of a metaphor<br>in an expanding universe that keeps exceeding <br>the boundary stones of the stars at zenith <br>and even the chipped cup of the moon full <br>and a skull that used to juggle mirrors <br>like shattered insights into reality for those <br>so spiritually inclined at harvest time to listen <br>to the blue moonrise peering through the cedars <br>like an effulgent pearl of wisdom shedding her skin <br>like a mystic in rapture on the dark side she keeps to herself.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Patrick+White">Patrick White</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476632" data-title="I Flesh Your Spirit Out In Starmud de Patrick White" data-description="I flesh your spirit out in starmud. No creator. 
No created. Between the leaf and the sky 
I mix the colour of your eyes on the palette
of a rainbow that let's the darkness 
sit at the same fire it does. Because the spirit is free. 
I hang crescen..."></div>
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