December-17

Cantos from the Hôtel de Rambouillet, by Various

I.

Full solstice Moon, my lunatic soul, holding Sorrows and Delights. Talk what you please, Eve, of the fading light in the western sky, the sweet purple fever of twilight. The moon is a milk stain, dreaming the night. Silent, the dying stars sing. I hear the wind in the reeds of the city.

II.

underneath with swifteptosoon dumbsweet ooofoofofofofofope of hopestars,Earthbleed.wereedsbleepleednopurpledsouleve Eve Eve she drifts, Eve winterloveventurless–stripp’d drift silken All chilly Earthblood, grovedeludwintervavavalvalva valley valva cold in bleed in Spring Steals lie flow’r O Seated flow’rollingpearl blur Blue She blur She, Nymph of liquid gushonotoonotoonotoonotowinter stole hear thy voice no more Leave thee in thy dim silent cell deluded thus.

underneath with thee, her purpled flow’r sleepdancing alone, sessesissessossessinthe frail veils bleed the blood of Earth, Moon stole’nomelodioushall’drous we sang Silent, we weeweep Silent, we we weeweeks Silent wake Silent pluck songriseSilent laugh we too soon Silent western sky sink soft away Silent caves we we weehidden dreaming Silent in wond’rous Blueblurs of desire flutter.

III.

O, languid morn
this day is the ship which sails
and steals the twilight fair—
sweet dazzling Eve
and her silken purpled wind

cold sun-rise
wrecked the dreaming—
thy frail veils stole
the venturous poet’s home
and lie bare-a modest flow’r

IV.

Pensive Eve, sweet child of Spring
Steals with swift step to the sunless crypt
To mourn he, shut from heaven
And lie in sorrow’s shade
Where twilight veils this living pearl
Beneath her purpled wings

Fair flow’r, frail tenant
Cast from earth’s enchanted hills
My siren soul, I hear thy voice no more
Leave thee in thy dim silent cell
Free at last of thy dreaming life
And with the western sky sink soft away

V.

Holding the sky in her hands she drifts, dreaming. Still. Dancing, laughing, weaving. Possessing no fear, she drifts. Blue blurs green in the white sunlight of desire. She is no prisoner of the city. Her dreams flutter, drenched in light. Wrought with purple fever. She drifts. Dreaming.

VI.

goldenmoon speak to us of truth

closepressed mortals sing no-truth not-truth
in their smooth melodious voices

truth is not numbers is not thundr’ous
strengthen your softwoven lunarvoice

brokenmoon speak to us of sorrows

soft sobs from your frail-headed earthsouls
lift your face bring offerings bring herbs

sing to diana-of-the-pities
and her divine all-healing dryads

philosophicmoon speak to us of mysteries

mysteries are not your histories
not arcadia not whispertales

magical mortals find hiddenfruits
new languages of insanity

fevermoon speak to us of passions

breath-panting mortals lunatic-tranced
double-woven in one another

your wetdelights wondrous ripe-scented
gifts of temporal insomnia

godmoon speak to us of science

science is not wisdom not fiction
not seated on altars in heaven

live in selenocentric regions
commit to drawing lunar orbits

fullmoon speak to us of solstice

standstill of the broken satellite
newborn buds on all reflected slopes

senselessnoise falls still in healing sleep
strengthen resist singsoft and find light

VII.

December twilight
White-plumed, cold, and lorn
A single star
Once a man
Lived for thirty years
A single dream spoiled
Halfway to Heaven
Time shall cease
Forevermore

VIII.

Mourn the wearied day
with honours heaped
on last glories of sunset

Rosy thoughts of distant
red and gold that stain
transparent clouds
to fires of flaring flames

Burning daylight draperies
as twilight, harbinger
of darkness descends

And city labyrinths, bristling
with discordant cries
clamour for calm and harmony
when dwindled light dies

IX.

This age of ours rests on all pictures of the living day
In the taking of it breathe, over-busy hand and brain,
Lingering long in dreamy reverie as either hand may
Rightly clutch report or lamentation
And on the threshold of our time alone
Whose life and death a mighty shadow thrown
At thy threshold, on thy hearth where mansions keep
All who lie beneath, while away the evening hour
Or wake the echoes, mournful, lone and deep
It shall ease thy mortal strife in its dreaming bower

X.

The Blind Man
observes with saddened pose
a world brushed by the shadows
of melancholy
and horror:

The Gipsy proffers
with outstretched hand the twilight of the Moon
to the Blind Man he
Twilight bells! As euphony voluminously wells
so delight musically swells
of Brazen bells — of Golden bells — of Silver bells
What a world of happiness
their harmony foretells!

They rhyme!

All the bells in her song all in tune

They ring!

The Enchanters—
Brazen bells! chiming, in the air, in the clamorous clangour
of the Harlequin merriment night,
Leaping higher, higher, higher
What their melody foretells!

The Sorcerers—
Golden bells! chiming, in the air, in the clamorous clangour
of the Harlequin merriment night,
Leaping higher, higher, higher
What their melody foretells!

The Fairies—
Silver bells! chiming, in the air, in the clamorous clangour
of the Harlequin merriment night,
Leaping higher, higher, higher
What their melody foretells!

For every sound that floats

And his merry bosom swells
With the pæan of the bells!
And he dances, and he yells;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Merry rhyme,
To the pæan of the bells—

Of the bells