Throw off the lights. Throw off the light


Wake up Marzia, the day has broken and the needles await

“Italia will come to you at last” she said smiling

But me, I felt nothing, like rolling water all around

And the dead sound that hit my ear was maybe

The remnants of her smile breaking on sunlight.    



“Hide the mirror! Hide it far away from the people of Night,”

“For shall we risk ourselves again aiming for old illusions.”

“Leave that to children” she said, and in me,

The words rang quite in tune:

“It’s a new melody, it’s a new melody” said I

Although I knew the chords.



“My sleep is not yours” she said, but she said it from so far

“My sleep is not yours” she said, voice of mistery,

Doesn’t belong to any body at leash.

“Is the room empty ?” I cried in fear

“Yes, I heard she said, like yesterday and today, and the nights before.




Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeams came from the cupboard!

No, these were mine

“Oh my God am I here all alone!”

Marzia, Marzia, Snow Queen of the Fall

Gather, Gather for the feast

Deliver us in beauty from our fatal quest to meaning!

White Queen, shoot it straight

White Queen, here we go again round that morning spear




“Marzia can you hear ! Can you feel !”

“Yes, but she didn’t respond me, I can see, I can see ! I’ve closed my eyes”

“Butter Queen! Take me in your depths,
Sliding down the road of consciousness with you.”

“Have you taken my chocolates, she said.”

“I am doing it, from the Everest Pinpoint”

-Echoes are chiming like morning haze-

“Mi scopia il culo!”

“White Queen, Come take my pain away.”

How come you taste so good, Jagger told me

-She ‘s always been sugary-

“We’ve eaten the hours, but they’re vomishing us, said she”

“How can it be only monkeys climb my tree”

“I know what it’s like to be alive.”

“Silence !”

“Silence !”



Silence indeed was falling back, featherlike

.
Pillowfully painting, pillowfully painting, pillowfully painting...


“I must leave”
                                
     Eyes, ceiling, glue. Blue eyes, blond hair. Italia first.
     Eyes, sealing, girl. Blue eyed, blond waves. Italian flesh.

“I know what it’s like to be left”            
                    
      High sea, reel blue. Blue eyes, blond hair. Weaver thirst.
      Bye thee, healing pearl. Blue heart, blond days. Happens fast.



    Six hundred and eighty two lambs
             for October the sixth


                  Come by at three, come by at three


                                                         ­                                                I left without me