A New Metre: Citations

“How didst thou write all these words . . . ?” —Jeremiah 36:28


in a fit of beauty
I will throw your tension
against the strings of my harp
& let the chords sprinkle us with
some primeval Chaos

because order is the bane of creation
the gravity of poets
& the conflict of the mad

& every time you walk in with an orange
I think the little God of fecundity in you
has finally moulded into being
has finally struck his fire in your palms

& he will break the world into words
so that we can puzzle it back together
in pretty little lines

but you are still at the foot of the Tree

— August 30th, Ankara


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