Status Updates From The Twins, the Dream / Las ...

“ se ven los ídolos, el templo permanece. estoy en la casa del dios descendente”

Between us
is neither forgiveness
nor reparation
but only the sea waves, the sea wind.

The waves beat. What woman weeps
on the far seacoast of my sleep?

Fog delays
the birth of world.
Fragments. Unfinished forms
whose ending is beginning
and whose beginning the unmoving
face of the end.

Memory:
vast holdings,
my inheritance a crumb?
-I’ve lost the memory.
The Northen Lights unfold
across dark silk.

She makes a bare tree grow green
for me. I know it is a gift,
a clear shade that reminds me
of half my origin. Then we cross
the threshold. The sign of her silence
became silence; softly the shining
of the darkness devoured me.

Moonlight on the water
showed it vivid against the sky.
Further back, she was watching me.
She began to sing a song. Worn out by
love, by terror, I knew her voice was creating
the secret half of the world.

In the deep night silence
a twig drops;

thoughts find rest,
and sound becomes
an avalanche of noises.

I join the chorus.

A moth crackles in the lamp-flame.

A north wind blows
and the willows weep

Humid and coll the night.
A soft wind from the east
gathers and disperses banks of mist.
I dream I see your face
in the lanterns’ light.

I tied a knot in my heart
the way you do with your handkerchief

Some of that fire’s still burning:
The light of the sun shifting
over the treetops,
and my heart bursting with desire.
[…]
the memory,
like dark lighting across a summer evening.