My lady of rare amber
Armada moored in the roads of Madeira
Ebony tree
Marble meander
Year after year finding me ready to surrender


Unimaginable laughter of Dido or Aeneas
Dune smell
Golden cloud
Rut flooded with a last shower
Saying nothing
Knitting a calico quilt
Queen in king made one


Board my forsaken drake
Nomad of my shadow world
Give me my name
My savior
My soul


Give me that murmuring
the echo route
where this speaking begins
My fired heart disturbs black ash
Rough whisper of a golden horn
Chrome or mercury illusion
An unknown rending of sweetness
Mine, like my own trembling

My love my golden number
beautiful sweeper of my mist
beautiful burglar of my clouds
knot at the confines of my dwelling
a blindfold embroidered with dawn


Black ink
determines this still slender code
the world’s unscathed memory
A rock, menhir, warehouse
Dormant chemistry of a gigantic oil rig
Cherokee Indian, Chinese orchid
A cedarwood chest of drawers,
A smell of beeswax, bark, caraway


Admire in my mirror
My bride wreathed in dawn
My Queen, my Diana, my Golden Bream,
A sprig of arum diffuses its scent
Laughing over nothings
over a crumb,
over a loosened ribbon
over a swim at the beach
over someone singing to the beat of a derbouka
Loving enough to die


Ancient spell
Rooted in the very heart of this modern world
like sweetwater
like a hoop, a round,
a piece of chalk
a marketplace in Manchuria
a tile in the corridor
fragrance of coriander
a cadence on an accordion


My friend my own heart
Give me an iron memory
of this world curved like a locust
An armored memory
Memory of my own Rue du Caire
Memory of the buccaneer
of Cerberus’s deck hand
at the edge of a carbon sea


Happiness consecrated to my noontime concord
to the marble of my dwelling
in the murmurings of my mouth
Hot shadow of my diadem
A radio crackles a love ballad
a fly drones
Babouche in a corner of my room
a dog barks
Sunday, on Rue du Maroc

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