Dream of a Language that Speaks (by Michael Palmer)
Dream of a Language that Speaks (by Michael Palmer)
Original Text
Michael Palmer, Company of Moths (New York: New Directions, 2005).
This
poem is reproduced on the Griffin Prize Web Site (from a volume on the 2006 International Shortlist).
1Hello Gozo, here we are,
2 the spinning world, has
3it come this far?
4 Hammering things, speeching them,
5nailing the anthrax
6 to its copper plate,
7matching the object to its name,
8 the star to its chart.
9(The sirens, the howling machines,
10 are part of the music it seems
11just now, and helices of smoke
12 engulf the astonished eye;
13and then our keening selves, Gozo,
14 whirled between voice and echo.)
15So few and so many,
16 have we come this far?
17Sluicing ink onto snow?
18 I’m tired, Gozo,
19tired of the us/not us,
20 of the factories of blood,
21tired of the multiplying suns
22 and tired of colliding with
23the words as they appear
24 without so much as a "by your leave,"
25without so much as a greeting.
26 The more suns the more dark--
27is it not always so--
28 and in the gathering dark
29Ghostly Tall and Ghostly Small
30 making their small talk
31as they pause and they walk
32 on a path of stones,
33as they walk and walk,
34 skeining their tales,
35testing the dust,
36 higher up they walk--
37there’s a city below,
38 pinpoints of light--
39high up they walk,
40 flicking dianthus, mountain berries,
41turk’s-caps with their sticks.
42 Can you hear me? asks Tall.
43Do you hear me? asks Small.
44 Questions pursuing question.
45And they set out their lamp
46 amid the stones.
RPO poem Editors
Ian Lancashire
RPO Edition
2011