Transelating "The Waste Land"
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Rebecca Wells
Mummified - gnats of fame, terracotta
Slide back the deed, breaking -
The deed has gained, slowly
It swept capes round dirty lines, willing rhymes, leading arms
Closing the heat from routing slick - softness
Illuminate the west
that degradation weighing downy clout
we slaked the thirst from each other
when the lendings wended - grinding back
the sheets of rain with hail - retinas of tears
Gritty dampenings of a staying era
that leaves, ahead.
Mines shaking demons in mind.
Deathly cleave,
the bows are kneeling, leaning
Mountainous terrain exhumes
transposing walking ways
we are caught in the tresses of surprised elation
Ghosts in the griping, pining softly
into the brought structures, sleeping strangely
The candles are learned, waiting demarcation, winsomely in the firelight
Empty signs that make clots, mires
Amethyst drying, her brought ships poaching the sea
with a mighty face of greeting - this
foot - place - shadow in
tumultuous tops hale
Shades think with the light, then
expire with sighs.
Come back - pressured,
learned.
Seeing and sleeving, frame the
lilies, mystical creations
frothy rights dream of ancient unknown visage
the flying and writhing
Loss, battailles, wickedness
Such saving, temptation, one bone soft
are read -
In the dust we read them together.
Slick lines shot, the bane of
News in the light
Ice - there are obsessive yielding
Slight raking slate, the
hitting ceases in the soul of grain,
The spare bag
Only the beast, its flight and mockery
can waste ships on the sun-lads,
Replicated in the light or peradventure fallen apart incandescently.
O gyres calling on the opposing side of my wringing stand.
Bones break - calling to me,
The somber silencing of song, the key
slyly sounding the cues to my heart
Oh, great equity,
course to me and send me into a soft voice -
give us the rest we serve.
Reality is raping cities
of buried, fleshing to the summer sheets
Jagged highs, flashing swings with smote stands, leaving thunder
to the slough, the cross of old.
Lakes are sighing, detailed farms, braided children in
the mead, nodding to the hollow sound of
a single sing from the bird,
forewarn the berth of the incriminated fathers.
Still the space of bees, congealing over the tempting sound, the berries
rate the weather as they seek to fly in sun.
Crossed in love and tried
they direct the bread in order to trade
for the earth.
Recall the placement of air and sink -
they say "we refuse the buds, speaking the sound" -
the rat-king comes again.
We're kind of renting, though not the first
Our hands, with warp and linen, melodizing harming anemones
Hyacinth shrilling, we're purring in thirst
Simply delaying the night gone high and low
And with kited stops we're flying, soaring.
(Between the tangs, I wait and pain)
Tormenting towers of shell, smashing gates of rock below
Resurrecting fallen angels, unborn babes in arms:
Give me your unwise, cast me your foolish who,
Touching and carousing through undeserved terror, blackened grace.
Rapt, I very am shrouded in smoke for
The dyers are leaving their duties and tripping up profits -
Glue it shut, Empress Again, the cracks with
Wondering eyes in the darkness
Will not comment unless you extend your hand
With that sunken ship writhing on fire, on rock
Like I can't leave - poor thing coffining
Who's offering us all a place to reside when
Our flesh is a thought for dreams.
Lean and snowy, covering the whitened wood
Through which the crows once painted pastures
Resenting these arms that walk their paths,
A starling offered up the obelisk
Under payrolls of senseless shadows.
A fifth of a heartbeat may seem clean tender,
But only truth may itch the hand of the obsessed giver,
Who malingers with the ox again
With stern but muddy tears.
Sometimes - the word - pulses -
Plaguing our fears
Writing in fleshly time
Hiding, wracking wooden stains
Waiting to gleam before the shoving beastly
Crimson bride.
Northanger staves my rest impaired
Effortless light: we concur on steps one through three.
A fire is sweet,
Inward seeking, outward raging throgh quests.
For Minerva is bated now, and she shan't leave.
Take more - why is it that you never speak? Speak.
And what are you thinking, when you think that?
Icons leave before they say when to seek.
I wish we were in
Then living men would see bones and weep.
From where comes the noise?
From under the winding moor.
And where comes the noise?
Some thinking, for ways of thinking.
You know a way of winking? Of thinking?
Of blinking?
Can't stand those snaky locks rounding places.
Are you dead yet? Have we yet to bed?
Wail away - ahhhh - silence - that worth in your face -
So deleterious, smarting.
Why do we moo today? When we moo at noon?
I shall shed up the walk, put my head on the block.
Soon my hair will wet of blood - will we pull through?
Colting at eleven - that's early, that.
And sonny, you're drawing blanks at ten.
Are you Othello, there, playing at eyes wide shut
Waking with locks in empty places?
When the band got mobbed, I said –
I didn’t mix miles, though a setter misses
YOU’RE UP – PLEASE ITS TIME
Now all bears come back, so make your elf a biter
He’ll want to know when you’re done moaning – have you?
Get yourself something: an edict, a wasteland.
You’ve gone all out, Lil, and gotten nicked, that.
He said an icer – can’t bear to gaze on you.
And no markings on eyes – we said – think of pared birds,
In the armed for shears, he will stag a good time,
And if you don’t, that’s another will – I said.
Office there, shedding – summing of lattice, eh?
Then we’ll go to the bank, we said, and gave him a strained book.
SHORE UP – PLEASANT TIME?
If you don’t like this, we can leave you on it.
Others have pits and shoots, like toucans.
But if our bear makes off, it won’t be for slack-oftening.
Draughts of shame, we made to look like shanties.
(And her eyes are only one.)
I can’t tell you – pooling elongated glances,
Chasing pills we look, for bringing softly.
(She’s had five times as many – almost died when younger.)
Thickness says it could be a knight, but I’ve never like them much.
You gave me a proper soul – we know.
But if our bells would leave you be – there is that, at least.
When you’re marred for wanting children –
SHARE PUPS – PLEAS OR NINE
Well, someday we’ll be home, with a small garden gnome
And the aching bits will dine in bellyful hotness –
SHARD CUPS PEAS FINE
MARRED DUCKS SLEEP AND CLIMB
Goonight Bill. Goodnight glue. Buenas, maybe. Good – night –
Take that – bad times – pleasant evening.
Good night, ladies, terrible after-afternoon –
sweeting of maybes – the anti-morning – goodnight.
Odysseus swift-footed, show us the woven paths you've trod,
And let your disciples bear your words to others,
Be proud of your lacking smiles, your leavened bread
Spurning despite, in sparks and glistening spies.
No lies have burned, nor impugned, destroyed
Across the land, we spun.
This day has been tempered, aloft, long.
Gift the emperor with your locking hair
But let not one drop of blood spill on blades -
Your clothes have been presented, ripped, shredded.
Nox et luminatum don't forget that day comes at last
For death may peel back the layers of us all.
Give us your addresses,
We will learn your language and deliver them,
One by one by one by one.
My hands and your hands in the one-sun world we've established,
Sleep inside, entwined, just once.
Wake in beams through windowpanes - look!
The river may run soft
Sparkling in afternoons scattered like ashes
But this is not goodbye.
Shellacks of orange flesh, juice
Dripping past cloudy pastels in fancy
Tearing bitter fabrics against one another
Again - again - slack and seal eaves
Against the winds of houses asleep.
Lest one wing brush the necks of
Small children who follow their mothers into the long-ago times
Spoils of war cracking against glass hot hush
Little ones - brazen against the light -
Searching for one who can explain loss of love.
Swing to me - flutter - descend -
Into the neighboring lights sleep in unstirred blood.
Ignominious we seem, taunted
By psalms sung against us - germs of society.
Swell spun seams in stitched holes - we slaves.
Please - come sew so sung sun - we are lost, anyway
(is what they meant to say)
But attempts are dismissed - effigies of white hangings
Wanting an unbound night - with light to settle
The sins of others rest only in ice,
Smiling inward flares - sensically we seep -
Let me wear charmers of glossy light.
My life, let waves flow upon me - be silent
And while aloft, we winsome wasting longing:
Something has been weeping besides us for years.
Tin cans may sigh and flatten, like hungry oranges
Having just died.
Five stops - I'm looking
But we cannot leave.
Perception is flowers, petals, scent,
Neutrons, electrons, atoms, quarks
Smoothing, searching, lurching, debating
Besmirching.
I scry - I can do only blame unto you.
Quiver - press teeth on meat, spiderwebs sharpen
Against hands.
But I shall do thee mischief in the wood -
We, poised to strike, but
I have drunk of wine,
My aim again off, venom belied
Icons seal my woeful darkness -
We wail and wail and wail and wail
I can hear sweet shards of words
Echo in the stance of your body
Calling ravaging the anywhere
(have we come to woods to die)
Report the air.
Rapport - of voices - of tunes - whimsical
Submerge selves in nebula
Speaking of anywhere - we have come
To anywhere
I speak myself through you - again
Deathly others
Silk blots bleed gray, floating, engraven,
Sinking so fleetly, they bear to wake, the deep sea tells.
Know thy heart by rote - thy hills by name
They lose minds in air, tripping over slates once woken in water.
Bold dregs tuning night and stolid
Ensuring defamation of embers in light.
Lead on to sight and drink
Once to whet your lives
Once to warm your souls.
As clothed to cover, belatedly, let ice
Blossom in greed. Let the dead
Sing down and redden in lust.
Let the devices of screams speak through night,
Please proclaim a nation of late
Delusional.
The dark listless gloaming over the wreckage
Plaguing emasculated jewels - taking
Wantonly curls. Icons may stomp the drums:
There, speaking in trees, shivering air embodied to and fro
With the shushtering trickling fountainous
Delays of night
Bare.
Alone minutely, draughts stave, undulating, let others shun the
Sojourn. Ravaging drivers, elating dives, entailing
All that is lost - we ride.
Stoppering fears, the flocks troop in sound,
Staving into hair everlasting
Mouths soften and close
Ripened flesh breaks under teeth - bite
With estranged warmth, departation
Hidden sleep, belied.
And the mothers come, seeking ground,
Sucking their brought oranges, limes,
Staying laces I cannot clear.
Reddened aiding isn't
Right as pins come - last -
Decrying that happiness, tasting of fears,
Of lies, ranting.
To die
To dash inwards
To taste of birth
And break from a song
Straying high from elucidating mystery
The mandrake cries for the least.
This dateless ring gives me pause -
For he showers, lingers,
Sinks.
Icebergs breaking.
The heat is widening, signing its feats,
Leaving its tongue in the hearts of sun-cries:
Emana - emana - emana -
Sithern there, in his cold costume,
Footprints scathing along lonely minute paths that fly, by the by.
Nettles graze my face, harmonious, wrought, bidding,
Each one an adulation sighing: Dying,
Stealing my time, pacing along nerve endings, slashing in kind, the first to come.
Flakes, ends of cotton, caught on stretches and bends of the river, flowing.
Oh do I smite these heads, sign away on lives broken again and again and again.
Mice, being mimed, flickering, scrounging for the last wife to hide:
I hear atrophies in this cadence, spending fiddles to be ware
Spying dimming prancing
Fleeing.
The Grail seekers are coming
Their masters harping towards the one -
Amen to places, seeming, sheer - comes
One who trows again against the wind, against the fight.
Speaking to moan against the moors
We trusted to forget. Our dated
Fortress flips and smooths and wipes;
Tomorrow its power will wane into a black heaven
Followed by universal narwhals, waiting to
Rain, lagging, svelting, stretching, prowling in the mossy sea -
Spending them (two by two) as Moses might cast to sleep.
The urn - it glows in those windows and more, each one gaping to
Violet phantasms - see, it sparks - it wants to be found in fingers in feet:
'Tis adept at being saved.
The women might die, for aspiring to seas of Forgetfulness -
Knock - running - knock - making - knock - bang - bang down - This is
Flesh and fucked up organs, this story. Be glad the messenger wears black
When he flies to say flattered tales that would raise the hair of the dead.
The Grail meanwhile sails softly among the waves.
Grounds of reddened comfrey
Make speakings of sound
Searching for this one, this one
Who stays, still
Nebulous in the times of others.
We, tissuing, glow in search.
SOLITUDE
Will eventually spill us to hell, or wake in meditation -
Silence knows while resting that half of
Staking soles is
Foiling the takers while you maim,
Though maiming won't show in graves.
Heady spills, mawkish feints
Cover us as we wind away in silence.
The scarabs start limbering up tree trunks
Rising to watch the art.
STEALER
The signs will out, one by one, as the mind
Weakens the lies in hedges
Like a good sock or a belt would do in time.
You stand without facing back.
Trash tries for protection, but skimping
Leaves no traces after flames. Like you.
WISE
It's genius to have specie today! Faking the weight of a toll,
Categorizing trunks and briefs
How much worth carry the rings?
Guiding issues into submission, I see I'm in,
Smooth, crazing, established.
We might have to see what the beasts are about.
Not your preserves tucked under hickory boughs,
The donkeys sigh,
And I, disinclined to wait for beasts and stocks,
And the orders that they don't understand,
I rip my sleeves open in my stead, and take dusty droves
Out of incubation and eschew the wasted fodder.
Prouder and prouder my toll mistakes,
Until the tin trickles and blacks
My son follows, in suits,
Humming to the buzzing, to the groaning, to the meeting
Of do-goods.
The good must win.
(With a bunch of cash) - I breathe in.