The thrust of this Doric pillar in the grass of the cloister On the
snow thin and clear shadows from the sky This high cold light can be seen
on the outer port while a clandestine viola tunes to the sea of mercury and a
wild sky beyond the white cubes of the refuges seeks the depressed darkness
of the earth.
This image will be engulfed -- o nymphea -- by the water which look
Astrid a framed elegance at the window stands out against the
enormous black city and drops over the great plaque of zinc from the
sky in a seal of domination
The blonde fire of your hair is the light of those distant small lights
and it is the whiteness of your teeth that summoned the moon in its
Astrid a rush throws up its litheness near the swamp. To those
large oblique eyes signed of o’khol certainly ought to be made a boudoir of
violets with modelled blocs of ice And is your cruel mouth plaque of
enamel a perverse rose in a pale hospital A swan occasionally
goes by in the starry night
sybillic harmony of your hands
The loftiness of your white brow invokes the iron of your iris under
the wave of your golden locks Inseparable you are from the living
room of lustrous nickels among the implacable geometry of the mahoganies
on coppered pedestals figure which the window eternally frames over
the sky that dies for the ardour of your hair
Were you Astrid?
You had parked your car such that inside the stifling padding of the
santal exhilarated in a dreary suburb under a slow rain the carts of
carbon went by the fog confounded the distances and the solitudes and
the melancholies in a yellowish rhythm
And you broke the spell your ambiguous look vortex
the vertiginous transparency of your stockings the froth of the lace
your legs spreading luminously the idol reversed and open my
being engulfed in you bogged down in an ardent obscurity endless
your brief cry green dilatation dissolution.
Were you Astrid?
Astrid of the lofty white brow seal of domination stands out
against the enormous black city and drops over the great plaque of zinc
from the sky.