Demoiselles from Avignon. Fallen bodies;
bodies fragmented in the falling into
pieces of the I; bodies falling into the
arms hips heads eyes breasts
legs cunts throats hands
Woman's fall an unwritten sign between
heaven and earth; a sign of promise and
hesitance trembling on the ambiguous
sword of discernment.
- Well, then my beginning was scorned
and displaced, woman murmurs, and
shuffles the shattered fragments around.
- My body is my castle is my haven, she
recites, as if conjuring
the fallen sign.
- My body is a rock of grizzled granite;
my body is a rock of granite with colours
interspersed; with purple and magenta,
with orange yellow and avocado green,
and longing, scarlet red I believe it to be...
- ...or blue...like the great blue...
She tries a piece of blue in her hand,
weighs it to test its reality.
It is amazingly easy, like the eternal
flight of thought borne on the wings of
Mercury, but, at the same time just as
heavy as wet clothes on those in distress.
...and longing grows the stronger
in her hand...
of tones from a blue blues
from a recess almost
A song of mourning, sung
by a slave dreaming of
The soft tones
vibrate in the hollow
of her hand,
and diffuse among forms
of woman's abstraction, among
to pieces, unveiling the body's