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Song Cycle
- University of Illinois Press
- Chapter
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5 Song Cycle Song of the voice, mellifluous song, delight of the breath. The noise of the unbuttoning will commence from underneath, the organs casting off their fumes of exhaust, a decay we can shape to the language we exchange, dying— The sound differs, as always, as always—vaporous, and the water, spilling from the curved borders of the body. There was a day, perhaps not even a full day, as the moon waned, as the interchangeable bodies collide on a Āeld and leave behind them the interchangeable bodies. Dull thuds from within the glass jar (one must surround the ear with glass, trembling like a marsh marigold in its globe). Blood to be gathered in thimbles. So many lit windows, and the dark flow between, a current with the bodies enfolded, those that fell without so much as a whisper to the night, or to the water which seduced with its susurrous slippage— (The swannery, where swallowtails swaggered on swards— ) Like dew-embers, the suspirations. The spruce bedazzling with its scents swirling, an essence distilled. And the plangent cry 6 of the boughs! And the tundra swans trumpeting! The yearlings in the migratory line. Oh stillness, your safe, your chiseled hand—let the birds land upon it and leave again, an acrobat’s smile— ...