He sings of her body. The root rises. Spring traces the sky. She shares the dream. The messenger echoes her name. A branch falls as silently as possible.
The sun was born. The girl sees this moment held with light. The song grows. It reflects what is needed for the image. The dark gives recognition of her eyes. The animal hides. The eye catches. She waits, fingers touching grass as light through trees. The mouth moves.
The window must find the sky to encompass. He is beyond its edges. The seeker recalls breath. The mask is raised to allow this.
The man takes a mirror. The image leaps. The hand lets slip. Skull tightens.
The day scrapes against borders of darkness. The river settles to its banks. The sword rises as to a bent neck. The light catches it. The woman holds such reflections in tears.
The shadow is spoken. The island disturbs the wind. The night has its circle. The love is of fire, of water, of air, and of earth.
The summer lifts as a blown curtain. The touch trapped. The leaf stopped. The lovers hold the instant.
The sea in the hesitation of one wave is remembered. The city is bounded by one room. She requires the burden of such memories. The net is made to separate.
The sky reaches earth. The body is centred. The cloud is of air and of water. The breast is enclosed. The time thins. The dance forms the air. The journey follows a yearning. The fire, losing its heat, is earth. The cold is of the sea and of the night.
This is one of a series of experimental texts I began writing in the late ’60s. It was published, under the name John Hall, in issue 4 of Thomas A. Clark’s poetry periodical Bo Heem E Um.