The Smoke Of Distant Fires

[1]
i wonder where the title the smoke of distant fires comes from
i heard it in a park once at the back of my creeping devoted
ear the moon was red the forest as always abloom with
heliotropes and blue begonias yes i heard it in a park once
a dog was barking the moon was red the sun had already set

[2]
eyeing my steps she’d say good but with less emphasis
the words stank to high heaven the serpent was singing sweetly
careful she told me it’s a monstrosity a misshapen beast
years ago i placed a leaf from a linden tree on his back
which left only a scratch a mere flesh wound where time
records its march where the mangled falcon sleeps the blood
on kriemhild’s breasts recalling the blood on kriemhild’s
breasts her death at the hands of some hunter of wild
boars the serpent was dancing the moon was red the
hero didn’t seem to notice i have lost the pot of gold
he said i don’t know who could have stolen it from me

[3]
the trees let go of their branches allowing them to fall
it was spring and they couldn’t bear the weight of the snow
the sun shone darkly deer came down from the hills
rats fled the swamp and everything before me was allegory
yet i didn’t write a word

[4]
who is eyeing my steps? who is dictating me words?
who is telling me now is the time? i don’t know

who is eyeing my steps who is dictating me words who
is telling me now is the time

[5]
i’m with my parents in melbourne this has to be a dream
i’ve never been to melbourne my parents look at a plate of
food with no interest one way or the other i feel uncomfortable
at times that’s how i remember you i can never get past
your eyes i don’t have any eyes ask siegfried ask the serpent
ask him what’s become of your words of the papers you
tossed in the wastebasket of the much hoped-for rain in the linden
tree forest i’m talking about hell about charon’s coins
about the barking dog the one that won’t let us sleep

[6]
we’re not in melbourne and this is no dream truth
to tell i don’t know where we are i see a park nearby hear
some music the rustling of leaves we’re alone tonight
you’re like a tiger i love your fear the streak of light rending
your shadow the solar mantle where beauty burns forget
the flesh for a moment forget about beauty for now you’re
with me tonight why is the moon so red she asks

[7]
it isn’t night and we aren’t in park we’re in thebais
at either the beginning or the end of a storm it’s like a line
you know by heart memory can be so cruel preserving
a marble column a red desert and nothing else around them
but rocks spiders scorpions a pious crowd and a rabbit
why a pious crowd she asks why a rabbit i must have read
about them in a poem seen them in a medieval painting or some
movie short perhaps praying high in the air i grasped the serpent
and if a cloud brushed my ears i gave god thanks for it was his hand
he ordered me to read but no one had ever taught me how

[8]
you must be simeon then she said pointing out my sandals
my lack of social graces my eyes brimming over with desert

[9]
she listens to the rustling of the leaves to the whistling of the wind
tell me we’ve always been here tell me you never went away
read me the part about the hero’s betrayal the dream of the eagle
devouring the falcon tell me it’s nighttime our neighbors wave
at us with no interest one way or the other the birds pick apart
their nests
on the riverbank a dog barks a dog that won’t let us sleep

[10]
water and mud common ground sketch their alphabet the metaphor
is burning i see it shrivel to nothing amid the rubble we don’t
need to write don’t need to read tonight the serpent
is very excited for it’s celebrating a birth as the words rot
and the moon shines a charon’s palm what should i do?

hold on to it she says write the smoke of distant fires