Paul Celan from: LIghtduress (Cycle 6)

Delusionstalker–Eyes: in you
end up the rest of the gazes.

A single
flood
swills up.

Soon you brighten
the rock to death, on which they
have
bet, against
themselves.

Unwieldy Tomorrow,
I bite myself into you, I silence myself at you,

we resound,
alone,

the impastoïd
eternity-chimes drip away
squawked through
by today’s
yesterday,

we drive,

with largesse
the last soundbowl
takes us in:

the accelerated heartstep
outside
in space,
near her, the earth-
axis.

Notepaper-Pain,
besnowed, oversnowed:

in the calendargap
he’s cradled, he’s cradled
by the newborn
nothing.

Strew Ocher into my eyes:
you no longer
live there,

save
on the tomb-
furnishings, save,

pace off the stonerows,
on your hands,

with their dream
paint over the
stamped out
temporal bone’s squama,

at the
great
bifurcation re-
count yourself to the ocher,
three times, nine times.

Swandanger,
grebe-
threat,

the icelashed with
kraken-
arms,

you, clawed
Yakut-
Pushkin:

Hei, Chebeldei, Chebeldei.

Leap Centuries, leap
seconds, leap-
births, novembering, leap-
deaths,

stocked in honeycomb-troughs,
bits
on chips,

the menorah-poem from Berlin,

(Unasylumed, un-
archived, un-
cared for, a
-live?),

reading station in the late-word,

economical ignition points
in the sky,

crests under fire,

feelings, frost-
spindled,

cold start —
with hemoglobin.

Source-Points, at night,
on the expressways,
expectant of the gods,

your foothills, Brainmountain,
in the heart-you,
by them
foamed around.

Trek-Scow-Time,
the half-transformed drag
at one of the worlds,

the dis-elevated one, intimated,
speaks under the foreheads on the bank:

Quits with death, quits with
God.

You be Like You, always.

Stant up Jherosalem inde
erheyff dich

Even he who cut the bond with you,

inde wirt
erluchtet

knots it anew, in the Gehugnis ,

mudclots I swallowed, in the tower,

language, dark pilaster strip,

kumi ori.

Do Not Work Ahead,
do not send out,
stand
inward:

transgrounded by the void,
free of all
prayer,
fine-fugued, according to
the pre-script,
unpassable,

I take you in,
instead of
peace.

— Translated by Pierre Joris

Issue Seven

Editorial: Archive As Adventure

Jerome Rothenberg

Pierre Joris

Steve McCaffery

Paul Celan

Pablo Picasso

Review: A Book of the Book

Review: Poasis

And: Seven Words for Jerome Rothenberg

And: Pierre Joris: Improv-American Nomad



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