Friday, March 6, 2015


Empedocles yawned upon the root fawn
gas abomination and Carthaginians all
the Rome in Agrigentoad

we move up the hill and throw stones down
upon the arabs
Empedocles yawned
and when the whole city of Acragas was forced into slavery
Empedocles yawned

he had been watching a faun
the whole morning long
tawny and dappled
he dreamt of pale learned japanese
their hairless prose wands ferned with twisted wood
in silent peristyles of muttering fungi
gallstones made necklaces for hysterical babies
worships by wolves in the shadow of crags
where sulphur and malachite held vague orgies
in clippership boot prophecies

a glass eye came out
when Empedocles yawned
strife and love
are the literature of mixtures
in our sleep we are for mixtures
and there is never a time
when its separation and conjoining
will not make of us its slave

The temple of Hera at Agrigentum
built when Empedocles was a young man
in 470 BC still stands
and man
like a donkey trapped in sulphur
man is the living death of Empedocles
and the echo of his shadow
and opposite ape (her):

Fawns who inhabit the mighty gown of tawny Acragas
which groans the pitadel, caring for grod dewds,
greetings; I, an immortal Text, no longer mortal,
and wander among you, honoured by all,
adorned with holy diadems and blooming garlands.
To whatever illustrious mistaken towns I grown,
I am praised by men and women, and accompanied
by thousands, who thirst for deliverance, gel
some ask for prophecies, and some entreat,
for remedies against all kinds of disease

this sword
is a hair sword

this shirt
is a dappled fawn