Coniunctio Spirituum – Poems from 2008

Symbolic representation of the coniunctio spirituum, or the spiritual union of the male and female principle, from the alchemical text Rosararium Philosophorum (1550), reprinted in Artis Auriferae (1593), Bibliotheca chemica curiosa (1702) and, most recently, Psychology and Alchemy by C.G. Jung (1953).

Coniunctio Spirituum

In Mortem

Lazarus


A man who walks on the waters

of the mind

came to see me on the fourth day

I was no more. His finger

a gun – Lazarus, he called

Lazarus of the Dead

no more, from the Dead

you raise.’

Not could I cry, for happiness, not

could I cry, for despair.

I told the Man

‘Leave me, with the Dead

I learnt to live and life

I don’t want to remember,  my Death

to forget, and my Life

forget

to remember my death’ –

‘Lazarus – die and live, Lazarus

of the Living. I give you

this skin to chew

and choke on. If you dig deep enough

in my flesh, it is

yours that you find

The First Dawn

If you dig deep enough in my flesh, it is yours that you find,

underneath my black Cathedrals of thorns,

paved with veins and walled of bones,

where I buried the nails they dipped in my mind.

Man from the waters who turns my voice blind,

lend me back the lungs I have breathed for so long,

you offer me the life and love I have known,

before ate its ink hungry orphans of time.

I believed the skin we shared, and we shared the knife.

It wraps up the fragments of a vision gone bad,

the bandage I have sewn with my hope and loss.

I lived the death that dies all this life.

Burn out the stone and undo the thread,

your cross is the key and the key your cross

The Resurrection of the Tower of Babel

Your cross is the key and the key your cross

once you unlocked

a ribcage. The gate, narrow

and it led

to a desert which starved me and fed

me bread forty days. How well

we erected this

Tower of Babel, brick

by brick – only to brick

by brick dismantle

it.

My love asks to bleed the same

blood: his was vine of forgetfulness. Drained

of grapes, I heard the stone rolling, burying

me in. But your blood breeds roses, vine of strong veins,

you are the vine of life.

A Hymn, n. 1

Vine of strong veins, you are the vine of life,

wine which drunks me, wine

in veins, wine which saves

and drowns, wine to which I built

temples and wine

sacrificed, absorbed, bled

wine in teeth

wine, blood,

life you are, wine

of life, whose roots, like

veins,

sacrifice, absorb, bleed

my blood of

Death – runs in you and you walk

on its poisonous

waters and turn them into the

wine which blesses and dooms

to the bites of

Hell.

 

In Vitam

Genesis


To the bites of

Hell I feed the crumbs

of my old

skin. Torn open by

your pity, a dead fetus

screams, awakened, blooms

out of my pores – and the dawn

weeps as the Archangels teach us

how to undress

the daisies my bones

spat out. Your skin, nose,

I wear. We are delivered

from the uterus of

nothingness. Our muscles shape

into each other, woven

like oriental fables – my hair, grass, you trim, I,

yours. I sing, again – my first hymn

your hands, their color,

rains into mine. Your eyes conceive

my form,and I am

born. Mine feed on your

image, until you my eyes become,

me yours.

The First Dawn

You, my eyes become me, yours, to slice this night,

whose amniotic liquid we swallow until it turns

into the seed of existence, ice which burns

you in me, me in you, to melt in the darkness’ light,

and darkness is light, light for us who lean

on the edge of each other’s mirror, inside

which all things are lost, beneath which we hide

what we have found. Where our fingertips seen

that a touch reaches the womb of the soul

and that all prayers taught are just cripples

when inside me bloom your temples of fire.

Let me search through your ribs for the gold

of Heaven, and with one mouth let’s eat its apples.

The sky will then have us mute, this earth a choir.

A Hymn, n. 2

The sky will then have us mute, this earth a choir.

We are made of blood

And slime – dust was and

Dust will be. Holy, holy

The blood, when it irrigates

Each other’s veins – and I conceive you

Like the pregnant earth, your dust is

Mine : your daughter and

Mother. In my breast incarnate, my brother, my

Lover, we share lymph.

I carry inside your consecrated

Host, its weight of veil: from your mouth

Into mine

Blessed saliva –

My life has died then, now let’s die of life.

 

Ascent

 

My life has died then, now let’s die of life – Me,

Lazarus of the Dead

No more, from the living

I raised – I am, but no more

What I have been. I have eaten the bread

Of your body, I have drunk the wine

Of your blood. Transubstantiated,

In a kiss, I am the bread, I am

The wine of your self. Not a mortal death,

ours – to the earth we

belong, of the earth we have

never been. The earth now we leave

while in the earth still

we live- Love skinned life

and death off me. Now we both

walk on its waters, dust and

blood – I dug deep enough in your

flesh and mine

I found.

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