i W h o A r e y o u Who is born In the next room So loud to my own That I can hear the womb Opening and the dark run Over the ghost and the dropped son Behind the wall thin as a wren’s bone ? In the birth bloody room unknown To the burn and turn of time And the heart print of man Bo w s n o b a p t i s m Bu t d a r k a l o n e Blessing on The wild Child. I Must lie S t i l l as s t o n e By the wren bone Wall hearing the moan Of the mother hidden And the shadowed head of pain Casting to-morrow like a thorn And the midwives of miracle sing Until the turbulent new born Burns me his name and his flame And the winged wall is torn By his torrid crown And the dark thrown From his loin T o b r i g h t L i g h t. W h e n T h e w r e n Bone writhes down And the first dawn Furied by his stream Swarms on the kingdom come Of the dazzler of heaven And the splashed mothering maiden Who bore him with a bonfire in His mouth and rocked him like a storm I shall run lost in sudden Terror and shining from The once hooded room C r y i n g i n v a i n I n the c a u l d r o n O f h i s K i s s I n T h e s p i n O f t h e s u n I n t h e s p u m i n g Cyclone of his wing For I was lost who am Crying at the man drenched throne In the first fury of his stream A n d t h e l i g h t n i n g s o f a d o r a t i o n Back to black silence melt and mourn For I was lost who have come To dumbfounding haven And the finding one And the high noon Of his wound Blinds my C r y. T h e r e Crouched bare I n t h e s h r i n e O f h i s b l a z i n g B r e a s t I s h a l l w a k e n To the judge blown bedlam Of the uncaged sea bottom The cloud climb of the exhaling tomb And the bidden dust upsailing With his flame in every grain. O spiral of ascension From the vultured urn Of the morning Of man when The land And T h e B o r n s e a Praised the sun T h e fi n d i n g o n e A n d u p r i g h t A d a m S a n g u p o n o r i g i n ! O the wings of the children! The woundward flight of the ancient Young from the canyons of oblivion! The sky stride of the always slain In battle! the happening Of saints to their vision! The world winding home! And the whole pain F l o w s o p e n A n d I D i e . ii In the name of the lost who glory in The swinish plains of carrion U n d e r t h e b u r i a l s o n g Of the birds of burden Heavy with the drowned And the green dust A n d b e a r i n g The ghost F r o m The ground L i k e p o l l e n On the black plume And the beak of slime I pray though I belong Not wholly to that lamenting Brethren for joy has moved within The inmost marrow of my heart bone That he who learns now the sun and moon Of his mother’s milk may return Before the lips blaze and bloom To the birth bloody room Behind the wall’s wren Bone and be dumb And the womb T h a t b o r e F o r A l l m e n T h e a d o r e d I n f a n t l i g h t o r The dazzling prison Yawn to his upcoming. In the name of the wanton Lost on the unchristened mountain In the centre of dark I pray him That he let the dead lie though they moan For his briared hands to hoist them To the shrine of his world’s wound And the blood drop`s garden E n d u r e t h e s t o n e Blind host to sleep I n t h e d a r k A n d d e e p R o c k A w a k e No heart bone But let it break On the mountain crown U n b i d d e n b y t h e s u n And the beating dust be blown Down to the river rooting plain U n d e r t h e n i g h t f o r e v e r f a l l i n g. Forever falling night is a known Star and country to the legion Of sleepers whose tongue I toll T o m o u r n h i s d e l u g i n g Light through sea and soil And we have come T o k n o w a l l P l a c e s W a y s M a z e s P a s s a g e s Quarters and graves O f t h e e n d l e s s f a l l. N o w c o m m o n l a z a r u s Of the charting sleepers prays N e v e r t o a w a k e a n d a r i s e For the country of death is the heart’s size And the star of the lost the shape of the eyes. In the name of the fatherless In the name of the unborn A n d t h e u n d e s i r e r s Of midwiving morning’s Hands or instruments O in the name Of no one Now or N o O n e t o B e I p r a y May the crimson Sun spin a grave grey And the colour of clay Stream upon his martyrdom I n t h e i n t e r p r e t e d e v e n i n g And the known dark of the earth amen. I turn the corner of prayer and burn I n a b l e s s i n g o f t h e s u d d e n Sun. In the name of the damned I would turn back and run To the hidden land But the loud sun Christens down T h e s k y. I Am found. O l e t h i m Scald me and drown Me in his world’s wound. His lightening answers my Cry. My voice burns in his hand. Now I am lost in the blinding One. The sun roars at the prayer’s end.SourceThe script ran 0.002 seconds.
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