| |
| IN
THE ARC OF YOUR MALLET |
| |
|
Don’t go anywhere
without me. |
|
Let nothing happen
in the sky apart from me, |
| |
or on the ground, in this world
or that world, |
|
without my being
in its happening. |
|
Vision, see nothing
I don’t see. |
|
Language, say nothing. |
|
The way the night
knows itself with the moon, |
| |
be that with me. Be the rose |
|
nearest to the thorn
that I am. |
|
|
|
I want to feel myself
in you when you taste food, |
|
in the arc of your
mallet when you work, |
| |
when you visit friends, when
you go |
|
up on the roof by
yourself at night. |
|
|
|
There’s nothing worse
than to walk out along the street |
|
without you. I don’t
know where I’m going. |
| |
You’re the road and the knower
of roads, |
|
more than maps, more
than love. |
