<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=477050" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>You Are Crazy</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">You are crazy and beautiful <br> and wounded and wild <br> and the youngest daughter <br>of a coven of poetic sea-witches, <br> and dangerous as the moon in your changes, <br> the fragrance of night <br>hovering over the blue star-honey <br> of your seductive hive of candles, <br> the skulls you drink from naked, <br>anointing the fire <br> with libations of blood and wine, <br> dancing to the passionate lament <br>of ancient serpents <br> unfolding their wings <br> like eras in the lives of stars, <br>constellations that have come and gone like leaves, <br> seasons that are only distant whispers <br> in the hourglass of the hills, <br>voices that have outlived the ears to hear them. <br> And we are no more contained <br> than is the wind, the white cloud <br>in our approach to lucidity, <br> and we have been wave and shore <br> many times for each other already, <br>and I have heard how <br>the night flute of your solitude<br> suffers like an island, <br>and the wizards have worked <br> an extra contemplative shift <br> to make you the gift of a gate <br>when my love of you <br> alloys my will <br> to the light of the urgency. <br>There is a wholeness to your being such that <br> even when the night shatters like a mirror, <br> all of you is reflected in every piece, <br>and your eye at the keyhole <br> unfolds me like a starchart <br> trying to locate a deep sky object<br>burning ferociously in wavelengths of black. <br> I am enrobed in your mystery like a waterfall<br> and you swim, a silver fish, <br>through the roots of my mind like the moon, <br> and the shadow of every thought <br> is a likeness of you <br>that I’ve conjured out of space like an aurora, <br> a feather of smoke <br> to limn your features mystically <br>in apricot-violet fires that flower like paint <br> and I take you away with me sometimes <br> where I can savour you alone like a mountain<br>where the silence prowls like a cougar <br> and you keep the wilderness to yourself <br> and your presence is enough of a fountain <br>to turn my heart into a mouth <br> entranced into speaking in the tongues<br> of the hidden grammars of blood <br>that pi the spirit with golden ratios <br> and passionate incommensurables.<br> You are a star caught <br>in the curtains of my seeing <br> and we are only eyelids away <br> from finding a flower <br>worthy of the sight<br> as you seed the darkness with light, <br> and I carve your face, <br>your transformative beauty, <br> out of a block of eyeless uranium<br> that glows invisibly like an emotion <br>that only blooms in exile, <br> a genius among elements <br> that gives herself away <br>like an orchard in a storm, <br> a serpent in the labyrinth, <br> the blessing of a weapon. <br>How could I know you in any other words; <br> how could I win the trust of your riddles <br> and climb the stairs of your neglected shrines <br>to the reluctant priestess <br> chanting in the shadows <br> of her own eclipsed altars <br>for a sacrifice that would answer <br> the impiety of a lifetime? <br> If I don’t touch you there, <br>if you don’t feel my breath upon the nape of your neck<br> like the wind on a lake, <br> if your blood <br>doesn’t turn into a red light district <br> without emergency exits<br> at the thought of being caressed <br>on the other side of your skin, <br> on the other side of the tapestry, <br> how could the hidden clarity <br>ripen into the crazy wisdom <br> of the bird that was born of a jewel<br> and you exceed yourself like wings? <br>You are all flavours of the fire <br> that bewitches the tongue of the snake<br> to divine the air for grails of water <br>with a branch of conscious lightning <br> that wants to taste you through its fingertips<br> like a note in a tuning fork<br>that will open the dark gate of your radiance <br> like the key to a secret release. <br> And I know how often <br>love is a dream in a graveyard <br> where only the rootless flowers say <br> what they can about severance<br>and the abyss of the heart that falls from its crown, <br> and the urgent vacancy of a throne <br> that governs lying down <br>beat like grief against the cageless door of a cold stove; <br> I have wept on stone, <br> trying to make a lie come true, <br>a mirage turn solid, <br> a ray of light linger in my bloodstream<br> like a locket dropped from a bridge, <br>I have been the timely extinction <br> of mystic alarms <br> that woke me early to grief <br>and what the thief left of my afterlife, <br> and I have been the razorblade, <br> the knife that bled to death, <br>that cut itself out like the tongue of a wound<br> rather than inflict a law upon love<br> that would tin the waterlilies<br>with savage indignation. <br> I have made one infinity of two zeroes, <br> and handcuffed myself <br>to the top of a tree <br> to throw the pack of chainsaws<br> that chased me up it like a scared messiah<br>off the scent of blood <br> that rippled through the heartwood, <br> and climbed down <br>like a quiet last judgment <br> when nobody was around<br> and stood in the doorway of my grave<br>like a letter delivered to the wrong address, <br> and cursed myself <br> for all the things I couldn’t save.<br>I have tried to knit honey <br> from the smoke of the fire <br> that spread like pollen over the fields, <br>but it was always tainted<br> by the taste of a black saint<br> retreating into a starless night <br>like the shadow of a bird <br> that had nothing to sing to the dawn.<br> And I withdrew from life <br>like the cult of virulent addiction <br> and lived like a ghost in detox <br> parsing planets like flaws on a rosary<br>and idling among the late night shadows on the walls<br> like a stone fish among the reeds.<br> And my name <br>was a word in a foreign language<br>I didn’t understand<br> until you said it like a wind of light<br>that had wandered like a road through time <br> to breathe me again <br> and pick my body up like a lost glove<br>lying by the lifelines in the wineskin valleys of your hand.<br> Until you were you<br> among the veils and interpretations, <br>black swan enthroned in a sky of fire, <br> the ghost of a bell <br> in the rain mirror <br>that arrayed your face like a whisper of islands, <br> I had never looked into my own eyes <br> as if they belonged to someone else.</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> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <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=477050" data-title="You Are Crazy de Patrick White" data-description="You are crazy and beautiful and wounded and wild and the youngest daughter of a coven of poetic sea-witches, and dangerous as the moon in your changes, the fragrance of night hovering over the blue star-honey of your seductive hive o..."></div> </div> </div>

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