Paul Amlehn

from The Seven Words


When the world has been reduced to a dark wood I will find you
a taste of ashes floats on the air. The musk is in the deer,
the fire in the wood. What new constellations of torment rise
for me now? Like weak prey torn I have bared my innermost hidden
to my killer. And if I become the ancient traveller I shall go
down the path the air milky and spiced with trade winds with
rose leaves in closed jars. Here it has the sublime confusion
of a dream we cannot remember. The great fire which illuminates
us and sings in our flesh leaves us a husk of helpless shadows.
Again these same thoughts that fall and fly. Whistlings
of death and unheard music. I have been humiliated by the
destructive powers of my own love. I have confessed an appetite
that is unspeakable. At the time of telling blood flows from
each eyelash pieces of the heart that come through the eyes.


Along the path back to the cold of nothingness I hear the light
beat on the other side. All is visible and all elusive, all is
near and can't be touched. How much longer must I carry this
body of grief? The useless anguish of my flesh and my weeping
without tears. Amnesia guides me through these solitary
fields over the numb earth. There is something I am here for
something I have to do before I can go the dead around like
birdcalls rain in my face. I have created a loneliness for
myself that no one can imagine. I am filled with all things
seen for the last time.