| Somewhat white, or yellow like millions of lightening flashed from heaven . It was like hundreds of strobe flash bulbs had gone off at one time. |
I. The Waters of LetheUnder the sullen gaze of Artemis The city waits, a seething stream of screams Crouching in darkness Ready to pounce on the Expected Visitor 'will you tarry until I come?' But the lambs in the flock move on to browner pastures And forget Only the city remembers Et les eaux du Styx sont gelées. II. The Harpy's DreamHe has come and gone; We have not noticed; We have not blinked Only I saw, and I cannot tell For I only speak the truth and there is none left The ocean's waves crest without motion I walk on their glassy surface, and peer at the fishes and whales (Whose eyes could dissolve the universe as a teacup dissolves the first spoonful of sugar) Suspended in time, a blue glass, endless An unflinching line, bendless The stink of their rotting corpses would foul the air If the air was not a glacier The life of the Phoenix draws to its end, its fiery conclusion that introduces Its eyes stare at the world Stare at the blue and the blue and the blue And the white and the white and the white And are blinded Relief comes with the soothing glare of the flame And consumes And out of the ashes Out of the scorching, smoking, orange-white ashes Out of the smoldering, dull red-eyed ashes Out of the warm, gray, dusty ashes Out of the cold, greasy, stony ashes Rises Nothing III. The Ninth CircleThe pain of Prometheus has been in vain He glowers down on the world below from his lofty cliff He tries to spit; his spittle hisses as it runs down his face and dribbles to the ground below Steam whispers And the eagle suffers from ennui The candle burns not at any end The candle is encased in ice And the hand that once was burned by its undying flame is frozen also The splintered matches litter the permafrost There is no lovely light Little one, won't ye give a penny t' th' old bag lady? So cold, 'tis, an' me with no shoes Nor socks, only me bags on me feet to keep 'em from th' ice on th' ground an' the cold in Th' air an' no food in me belly t' keep me warm… The child's eyes are blue and white 'you are not my Momma, you can't tell me what to do.' Smacking the clawed old hand away from him Barnacled crab's claw Tiny puppy, milk-whey hands With a snap-crack shattering Send it skittering like a spider Scrabbling like a scorpion (But its poison has no potency left; it is frozen in green cats'-eye droplets) If there were only flame A single tear of Apollo's grace Descending from his sun-spotted face But there are only dull florescent light bulbs that ooze their light Freezing the blood and muting the sight Allora essere maledetto a questo inferno di ghiaccio? IV. The Fourth VialWenn Sie in den Abgrund schauen, schaut der Abgrund auch in Sie. Under the rice paddies Where, in the pre-dawn The women of the village shiver Barefoot in ice-water Under the rice paddies The Abyss opens The flames lick their feet And curl among the rice-shoots Mi Ching wipes the sweat from her brow and complains to one of her fellows: 'Isn't it unseasonably hot this morning?' The women of the village nod and cluck, and continue their work Long after the inferno has devoured Their fields and their homes and their children and their husbands They continue their work Weeding the air As the world explodes around them Mi Ching wipes the sweat from her brow and complains to one of her fellows: "Isn't it unseasonably bright this morning?" and there appeared a great wonder in heaven And the women scream and scatter And behold a great red dragon As the flaming rubble rains down around them Having seven heads and ten horns One is struck in the side by a burning splinter of wood, and her clothing blooms into Red flame like a million red suns She has become a dancing star, a dancing, screaming, writhing star The stink of burning flesh fills the air And seven crowns upon his heads The women run to the river And his tail drew the third part of the stars from heaven But it is frozen solid and they cannot jump in Corpses bump the surface of the ice as fish bump the glass of an aquarium They beat their fists on the jagged ice until their hands are torn and bloody The ice is stained with blood They cannot break the ice The corpses bump against the ice The beating of an immense, icy heart ba-bump ba-bump ba-bump and he did cast the stars to the earth And high away on his lofty cliff Prometheus watches the city burn And though the eagle has awoken Prometheus laughs For I testify unto every man that heareth the words of the prophecy of this book He which testifieth these things saith, Surely I come quickly: Amen |