Saturday, 20 February 2010

2. The Ghost Hotel (Room no. not Known)

He will look on me with love and has looked on me with love. He does look - but the present terrifies me as if I am sight singing a piece of music. To do so successfully means to have no grasp on whether there is success, to be unable to perceive the shapes as they are forming across my eyes. I like the past; it trails by nicely with its established paramecium like wiggles, just like the songs I’ve sung. I remember the concert with Veronika where I sang the Mahler and I had one of those blackouts in the middle-no idea of what was coming next. One of those where the body becomes a moonwalker feeling for anything the feet can recognize- well known to performers and the brain damaged. Really, there is no problem-what is the matter really with floating in space?

not crossing the road
at the zebra crossing

but behind the bus
the one that goes to you aunts

I dodge the puddle
in my new patent shoes

I know you are waiting
by the fireplace with martini.

Today is the anniversary of something important
not that is why we are meeting.

I notice the girl in red shoes
the fine flowers in the lobby.

When we leave the rain will have turned to snow
and we will adjust our coats

a man will offer us a free newspaper
on which the cover

shows us the remains of a train crash.

But I panic, having lost the notes of the code that will reopen the door to the spaceship. Then, I noticed a g minor chord jumbled in a heap in the corner of my eye jump up to reassemble itself and my mouth opened with quite beautiful sound. Veronika was in the wings, in a bronze gown, looking on with love and jealousy. She had yet to break my nose.

The room is full of birdsong.
I am not sure how we arrived.

Our fingerprints were taken
our eyes photographs

That day yours were pearls
you wore the red brick wall.

Mine were tanks
and mine fields. I wore torn tweed.

We counted boats in the harbour.
The harbour the romans made in roman times.

Then we went to dine on take away octopus
picked our teeth clean with little brittle sticks

watching boys throw stones at the windows
and the planes came in flying low

so we decided to stay and explore the amphitheatre
but it couldn’t be found.

i’ll soon get bored with iconography
that’s why he burnt down his niece’s cottage
nostalgia eats away at me
& earlier she’ll look at the sun for three hours in silence & then says
it’s a fish i don’t know its name
or there was something shimmers about living
in that high-rise which tore [Idea]
anne-marie’s dress
the next time i met otto i’ll hit him
he staggers but didn’t fall to the ground
some infants watched the whole thing I guess
they’ll be playing truant from school
i often play truant from school

& then she hadn’t eaten (before doing his gardening).

I went shopping this morning; I had already done the laundry.

I had already left (when you called).

We wanted to talk to you because we didn’t see you yesterday.

If you had asked me, I would have answered.

We would have gone if we had known.

So the impressive flower arrangements, the carefully contrived bees

were ignored by the guests.

None of whom came by tram.

I found your beautiful pearl shoes in the dark pot of strangers.

When you left in the morning I mowed the south lawn singing songs of tiaras

removes her dress then throws it over the back of the mirror
& i sniff at the fabric until she’ll return & beyond
yes if i had the contour for it i’d wear her dress
he has difficulty sleeping
a bare light bulb, also her resemblance to saskia

i got bored at school, that’s why i go there

i’m six years old & six feet tall

so we waltzed through the park, nothing distracted us, not a thought of silk manufacturing, nothing except the motoric joylessness of the waltz & its silence
cuts her left index finger opening a tin of peaches in syrup

no? we heart berlin

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