Of the Drowned Girl

 

1

When she drowned, and swam down

From the streams into the great rivers,

The opal sky shone wondrously

As if it had to calm the corpse.

2

Wrack and algae clung to her

So that she slowly became much heavier.

Coolly the fish swam around her leg,

Plants and animals burdening even her last journey.

3

And the sky in the evening became dark smoke

And at night held the light in balance with the stars.

But in the morning it grew lighter so that

There would still be morning and evening for her.

4

When her pale body had decayed in the water

It happened (very slowly) that God gradually forgot her,

First her face, then her hands, and right at the end, her hair.

Then she became carrion in rivers of much carrion.

--Bertolt Brecht

Musandam

O, glowing soul of Oman (updated)
your gameless hand reminds me
of a tattered Tilton prayer-cloth.
Why are you at war with entropy?


Don't you know the blood of angels
flows out into the Strait of Hormuz?
Do you really think the gauge
of ring (that pierces Gaia's nipple)
makes the slightest bit of difference?

Alex Tried to Drink New Amsterdam

Alex tried to drink New Amsterdam but
the streets were paved with broken glass,
but the buildings were made of sea-foam,
hyacinth and peacock feathers.

But shy and bleeding, she inquired about me
among those streets but had to learn to speak rudimentary peacock.

Seeming liquid green nepenthe,
nouns and broken glass constrained her.
But mostly verbs were not a problem
because there is but one in peacock
(and it can’t be conjugated).

Said verb is transitive but said,
by simply, keeping, surprisingly, quiet.