Ivory Black [BLACK breathing BLACK at the window]

Myriam Moscona

BLACK breathing BLACK at the window
The interior eye     Opposite watching's touch
In what is black white
Is by accident      The eye detaches
As it slips from itself
What is black       Like sky

In its scream        Glassed
Spins           In a straight line
Draws along     In a spiral

     Isn't it your dream to be visible?
A luster spins      Atop another
Grows           In buds
The change of season comes
In clarities                Lifts
Airborne                High and low
Like the light      In our touch
           The dark light that skies in whites
And in prayer the refrain repeats
Between nude walls                  Hangs
Window against the emanation:       Open

More by Myriam Moscona

Ivory Black [In the white and in the soot]

    In the white and in the soot
    in the burnt senses of touch I write
    before starting the fast


    Forgiveness for what will be and the sun
        Remains upon the sun
    The calligraphic line at dawn
    Makes John uneasy
    (how I would have liked to sup with those twelve)
I hear the forgiveness in this scale
    followed by a sad adaggieto
    The harp            Rain
    The horizontal
And may derision fall upon the public square

Ivory Black [Not to speak]

            Not to speak
To see and to translate into moans    It's not pain
  To moan from birth
  Only the eye and the conquering of a tongue
  (that you wanted to say that for the slit?)


  To return toward hearing (to touch oneself) via the
  heart is heard slowly
  Is guarded like a black poem as if it were an eye
                who might rain

Ivory Black [Dissolves]

In ancient liquids        The black in shimmers

The harp like architecture its strings over unexpected rain
from echo to echo they draw their roughness they stop
If only I could            Seek within lack


     small incisions in the body like a drug they enter
let slip the poison they salivate they seek a place
dream cavity: I am inside it


They graze the air the harp strings
And carry them toward you
They stretch out along the waves   Sustain us
The sluices now open
Crackle in this refraction
Movement toward the stain


What is black breathes black at the window
                                 Where do I listen?
The harp broadcasts
Runaway sensations                 Without roots


Shades of night blue
Between the two of us:         Explode

Related Poems

Where, Broken (the darkness

Cows on the spine of the hill like the spine of a book are some letters

Letters with legs; like an E and an L or an R that is squared like the box of the 
body of cows

Like the spine of a book, the legs and the bodies of cows spell out the name and 
maybe the head spells also the name of the book on whose spine is embossed 
the name made of grass:

The light of the many days and the darkness the roots of the grass pull up out 
of the hill and the light pushes down with the feet of the cows and the darkness 
inside of the skulls of the cows, all these the name has eaten

The lines of the spines of the cows grazing the sky, the meeting of spine and sky 
also marking the arcing edges of dark or light letters on dark or light pages 
where, broken, the name grazes the thing it will know or mean or become

These are the choices.
However, there are other books.