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The Apple

by Tomaž Šalamun

such an Eros? such a home?

it tumbles, reckless, humus of earth
the woods, brilliant steam of night
the smoke, we name the smoke the surface of the sea
who wallows in the vault?
who supports the hunger of the sky?
where will we put earrings, young lieutenants,
weary sailors?
as if the light itself would show us how to pluck an apple
how to smell it, predatory beast
how ink pencils, ice of mirrors
from the hand descend clouds, who seduces fire in the night?
who knows about loam, about weather? who knows how to feed the stove?
herd of hungry mercenary minds
pesky habits, lazy muzzles
Thoth’s work coupled common flowerbeds
steam! steam moves souls! textiles!
breaking hiddens slide
monkeys are hungry, runners are hungry
gifts lick straps, the principle trembles
lying down, I will rake fishes, dry colour of crumbs
fencers, baroque stuntmen, huts of mouth
look at loosened world bonds, drunken crickets
buckskin pokes, terrible children
there is bustle in the orbits, rot in mobile fish
break-neck in the height of eagles
wrappers, rivers of angels, raspberries pierced
on earth we do not file flames, we do not foresee God’s temples
we do not turn up our palms
on earth we tremble, destroy waters, nourish smoke
in the dark we lay hands on the hunger of the sun

-Read at St. Lydia’s on November 13, 2011

Posted in: Poems

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