May 20, 2004

paul celan poems

WHITEGRAY of
shafted, steep
feeling.

Landinwards, hither
drifted sea-oats blow
sand patterns over
the smoke of wellchants.

An ear, severed, listens.

An eye, cut in strips,
does justice to all this.

THREADSUNS
above the grayblack wastes.
A tree-
high thought
grasps the light-tone: there are
still songs to sing beyond
mankind.


BRIGHTNESSHUNGER-- with it
I walked up the bread-
step, under
the blindness-
bell:

it, water-
clear,
claps itself over
the freedom that climbed with
me, that with me climbed
too high, on which
one of the heavens gorged itself,
that I let vault above
the worddrenched
image orbit, blood orbit.

HALF-GNAWED, mask-
miened corbel stone,
deep
in the eyeslit-crypt:

Inward, upward
into skull's inside,
where you break up heaven, again and again,
into furrow and convolution
he plants his image,
which outgrows and outgrows itself.

Posted by adam at May 20, 2004 09:11 PM
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