1
patois tumbling Occitan, Latin, Arabic, Hebrew

Muslim, Jew, Cathar, Christian 
left a wingbeat in the sky to return to later:


cicadas chirring in their dialect
a sign, Jupiter becoming Saturn perennial becoming bush
liquidambar
black ants foraging for red blood
noonday sleepers on benches of dust & stone 
two gardeners, hands on hips under the only unlabelled tree after searching patiently

for an hour for seedlings
raked path edges which tell of markings of desert scriptures of distant sutras
some dozens of hundreds of the fruit of the mulberry Morvus alba which fall are

falling taken only by birds
those same mechanic cicadas whirring lower than shrilling jinking soaring coasting

wheeling swallows
the bell tolling sixty seven times at seven in the evening


wandering the length of the flaneur twilight


2
hills, the long purple evening hills 
& into darklit Theatre of Anatomy
what we should not see            they say 
dark closed-room aborted secrets
cut apart, torn, ripped from life
palpitating, flayed, stripped from ourselves
to ease apart the skin
to pull apart skin
to ease over the muscle
to send the knife where it will
to count throbbing organs 					
& the chambers of the lungs					
moon bitten eaten cancered by clouds
shrivelled pain held in alcohol
in aspic blinded in vitriol in glass


the light then the lights of a distant town
the pine in Gerhard Street which enjoys
singing its cicadas


3
there are many reckonings

I counted them

she is on a bicycle with eleven parrots

she is on a scooter with two dogs running

she is on a stone stair with a lizard

she is alone with how many hands

what does she hold
open the light


4
as Garden Directors become bitter

jealous, then stone:

Rondelet, blind

Pelissier, priest, blind

Belleval, debtor, blind

Sauvages, blind

Dunal from a distance appears to see

spiders in Granel’s sockets

Galavielle with webs & pine needles in his

Martins, empty sockets

Planchon, eyeless


5
it is forbidden
                        among other things

                        speech
we listen carefully

heed little among tongues
the grass

is forbidden
                        poetry

                        is a kind of music
you must hear it in

order to judge					


6
in the nothing

in the unclear mind

in the going & coming

of water lit sun

shafts under trees


7
what can be

brought from here
a thousand seeds

a thousand words
a thousand arms

of compassion
peace, cicada

peace


8
rooted in perfection
lotus      maple      osage
& the Judas tree
unassailable perhaps


9
a twentieth century story

of noble birth

surviving revolution

fleeing war

though not wealth

resorts to painting

what’s abstract to you

Zao says

is real to me
an old tortoise

finally in mud

what he likes best

next to painting

is to smile


10
mouth full of stones

olives of the region

cherries of the region

fill my mouth with songs

with song leaves


11
the music

& here’s the diamond

the heart

drops of water

beads of water

pearls of water

stones of water

tears of water

blood of water here
the fountain’s turned off at six in the evening

there, it is kept turned off


12
shadows

traced in sand

& bells pealing
fading


13
yarrow

tansy

poppies

plantain

sow thistle

arnica

knotweed

all-heal


14
the trees, once human

Bacchus, Jupiter, once divine

become bitter, jealous

toes thrust into myth & story

become paper & word

written 
Thracian women see

cracked wood spreading

along their soft thighs

root as Oak
a foul mouthed shepherd’s voice

-box grown rigid, gnarled

what’s left of his tongue

become Olive 
the Sungod’s daughters

tearing hair for a dead brother

tear Poplar leaves

poplar bark closing over last amber words
to be remembered

when seeds & leaves fall

into my lap &

stick in my hair

where doves come to sip
where fingers

reach down into soil

hair become willow

Rabbi Dov Lior, bitter

jealous: a thousand non-Jewish

lives’re not worth

a Jew’s fingernails


15
under the swallows

beside the garden
is the tramcar

direct to Odyssey


16
not a new game, destruction

what’s in a name, Valéry?

a garden of epithets

a dictionary garden

what do they not see

no independent arising

our garden is whose desert?
what’s in a name,

Rondelet, Pelissier, Belleval?

between tongues

a dictionary falls from lips

a self-naming

a transhumance of people

refugee

after their own horti

culture

drawn on Tassili dune caves
Sauvages

what shall we say to Lior

to Saïd            to Yousef

to Lbou            to Hassan

Chani, Abdelhak & Tibou?
In another room

a man sings

softly oh oh

eh eh tomorrow

eh eh tomorrow

& falls asleep
a jet passes overhead.


17
something like history slips in

dogs bark & drop delicate turds in the street

virtuoso musicians & jazzmen

strike up in squares where

we dine on terraces
something like war elsewhere
in another room she sobs

she sobs, heart become pebbles

her sleep will turn mosquitoes

into droning planes


18
the whole of July
doing what

a taxonomy of reality

recognition before thought
yesterday’s flower is

no more

is to see the impermanent
as permanent

mind traces      today in flower

unnoticed before
delicate white

starry jasmine

Trachelospermum jasminoides
white pink apricot red

oleander

Nerium oleander
recognised not described

lotus

Nelumbo
today the cicadas

are reborn as cicadas

their old skins abandoned
lives walked away from

on tree trunks

the cicadas
are climbing out

of what

they would not recognise


19
he sings of his hidden house

in the lemon orchard
I also have a little house in a garden

just for the present
I talk to cicadas

& the fish in bubbling water
also talk of love

among these flowers


20
in another street he sings

I’m chocolate, chocolate that’s me
our frailty as people walking

our oddity dreaming
those who sleep soundly

are the jailers of the street


21
our aim to wake

another going round

we’ll grow a revolution

we’ll grow our own tongues

a lilting an utterance

sage & rue

whole vocabularies

of grapes on the vine

each fig’s a proverb

each mulberry a lyric

red tomatoes small sweet nothings

a thesaurus of cherries whispering
names cannot be sold

only given & received
*
it is July 14th in this

Year of Grace 
he sits in the street

singing still      softly
his feet are carefully

folded 
into old soiled rags
*
Raimon d’Avinhon

caustic trobador:

a servant

meat porter & hijacker

ruffian & trafficker

fisherman & horseman

friend of streetgirls

thief & rat catcher

stonemason drunkard

baker & writer

milliner & grocer

maker of weapons of war

swine herd

bin raker

fool to those who believe it

sage to them as find him so

a good physician

when it’s time
Did we walk the streets alone

ranting loudly each to himself

anger at our livers
Did we play Roma violins for cigarettes & coins

& abuse 
we know oud was played

in the Theatre of Anatomy

& gargoyles of the old cloister gaped

& we briefly applauded the 
divine in music under a new moon

shining on the west rondel of the Cathedral
& the stars      the stars.
Why is peace forbidden?
            Did one of us walk seventy feet up

along the acqueduct ledge

            gesturing, muttering, throwing

down random wild flowers – weeds

            upturned faces at pavement cafes

a pause in Midi Libre

            not wanting to jump

but there anyway
Did another sit patient, begging

in that square

dedicated to the Martyrs of the Resistance

pennies in an ashtray

marked 3 centuries


22
wintersweet

sorrel

equisetum

daisy

dandelion, that piss-a-bed

sedums

ferns

simples for cures
what simple for cloudwalking

on acqueducts
sweet winter rains

now’s the time
*
migrating

coming & going
better

to listen than talk
what

is a state of mind
leaning

back in the chair
soles

& heels flat against a cool wall
shrilling

of cicadas striking hot stone
grove’s

interiors
shapeless

shapely the mind learns to walk
shadows

of bars on the insides of eyes


23
dust

            & the very planes of light
what

            is a state of mind
tight

            right into the heart (it moves)
&

            gone with the dappling leaves
green

            chambers of sunlight


24
garden riddles
who stole the stars

& dropped them in the dust?

jasmine
who stole the sun

& gave us each a piece?

the orange
who stole the rain

& sent it straight up again?

bamboo
who stole water

& turned it to wine?

the grape
who stole time

& sent it spiralling?

snail
who stole our labour

& turned it to gold?

the king
who stole the gold

& gave it liquid flesh?

koi carp
who stole the fattest carp

from the king’s garden?

the hanged man


25
at night

back from sleep
I ask droning mosquitoes

to bite me
leave alone

flesh of the one I hold


26
I’ve counted the measure

of the plane leaf in fives
each not one but

not in its own tongue
it wasn’t rain but

pattering of zelkova 
seed & green distressed

by wind & heat
size of raindrops

dusting the place of trees
*
to consider form

the whole long leaf
lit afternoon

considering seeds
*
to consider time

the cicadas chirred
three times a second

for endless minutes
on edge

magpies at counterpoint
*
clapping game of a mother

with her daughter
syncopation of water

striking bamboo
& reddening

pod by pod day by
day along the month

of Italian lilies
to send a blaze

through woodland floor


27
one noon in another

room in open air
with a handful of

hot radishes, some bread
cracking almonds, drinking

wine dregs, 					
in the mouth of

Arnaut Daniel
il miglior fabbro

Occitan:
it’s better made

in mother tongue
& the alouette

cackled at that


28
eyes dance with leaf

the other side of veins
petulant, the sun king points

to clouds once more
with moon

beyond his reach


29
one two three four

five six seven & eight times
shadow of moving water

shade of a singing voice
sleep is the bridge

to mother tongue


30
herder of hills

little runner of waters
what is emptiness
Roch, in the seventeenth 
year of his age, not yet a saint

set out on pilgrimage
to a place older than God

older than that grove
at the source of the Verdus

where Diana bathed
(& for setting eyes on her

turned another to a stag
torn apart by his own hounds)

& simply helped 
pustulent sufferers

of the black death.
Roch, no spring in his step

but autumn revealed
the way he took

the road which walks itself


31
here water leaps

toward frog kingdoms
ponds swallow

with a smack of lips
in a republic of water

all princes end
their days squatting

under the meniscus
jumping at

every common footfall


32
plant misery

harvest anger
heart of a heart

in the old city

a garden

in the old garden

an old tree

its old trunk grown in

& clasping itself

writhing with a hundred eyes

& gargoyling wooden mouths

arthritic mother’s skin

stretched luminous over bone
in old mouths

wishes are posted

paper scraps
I have need of money

I hope to be serene
for the health of my family
I want a job
that my sisters stay happy as I left them
love & prosperity to the end
Diderot, I hope our story continues
peace in Israel

peace in Palestine

peace in Iraq
who thanks the tree

with leaves of tongue
in the old garden

in the old city
that those I made suffer

may forgive
the practice of compassion

compassion


33
holly-leaved oak

mulberry with plane leaves

tansy-leaved phacelia

whole-leaved jaborose

lamb-leaf Tartary
maple with leaves of ash


34
to sit where

the salamander sage
creeps out for sun

sage of the Himalayas
sage of the Nile

sage of Iranian mountains
sage of Turkestan

sage of the woods
sage of the boreal

morning


35
remember that first night

you left before dawn
here in the shade of trees

day never breaks