Edith was wiggling her saliva-covered kneecaps, bouncing on the rivulets of lubrication. Her thighs were aglow with froth, and her pale anus was excavated by cruel false fingernails. She screamed for deliverance, the flight her imagination commanded denied by a half-enlightened cunt.
— Do something, F. I beg you. But don’t touch me.
— Edith, darling! What have I done to you?
— Stand back, F!
— What can I do?
— Try.
— Torture story?
— Anything, F. Hurry.
BELIEVE ME, EDITH
Believe me, Edith, I had to act, and act fast. That was my nature. Call me Dr. Frankenstein with a deadline. I seemed to wake up in the middle of a car accident, limbs strewn everywhere, detached voices screaming for comfort, severed fingers pointing homeward, all the debris withering like sliced cheese out of Cellophane — and all I had in the wrecked world was a needle and thread, so I got down on my knees, I pulled pieces out of the mess and I started to stitch them together. I had an idea of what a man should look like, but it kept changing. I couldn’t devote a lifetime to discovering the ideal physique. All I heard was pain, all I saw was mutilation. My needle going so madly, sometimes I found I’d run the thread right through my own flesh and I was joined to one of my own grotesque creations — I’d rip us apart — and then I heard my own voice howling with the others, and I knew that I was also truly part of the disaster. But I also realized that I was not the only one on my knees sewing frantically. There were others like me, making the same monstrous mistakes, driven by the same impure urgency, stitching themselves into the ruined heap, painfully extracting themselves —
— F., you’re weeping.
— Forgive me.
— Stop blubbering. See, you’ve lost your hard-on.
SONGS FROM A ROOM
STORY OF ISAAC
The door it opened slowly,
my father he came in;
I was nine years old.
And he stood so tall above me,
his blue eyes they were shining
and his voice was very cold.
He said, “I’ve had a vision
and you know I’m strong and holy,
I must do what I’ve been told.”
So we started up the mountain;
I was running, he was walking,
and his axe was made of gold.
The trees they got much smaller,
the lake like a lady’s mirror,
when we stopped to drink some wine.
Then he threw the bottle over,
I heard it break a minute later,
and he put his hand on mine.
I thought I saw an eagle
but it might have been a vulture,
I never could decide.
Then my father built an altar,
He looked once behind his shoulder,
but he knew I would not hide.
You who build these altars now
to sacrifice the children,
you must not do it any more.
A scheme is not a vision
and you never have been tempted
by a demon or a god.
You who stand above them now,
your hatchets blunt and bloody,
you were not there before:
when I lay upon a mountain
and my father’s hand was trembling
with the beauty of the word.
And if you call me Brother now,
forgive me if I enquire:
Just according to whose plan?
When it all comes down to dust,
I will kill you I if must,
I’ll help you if I can.
When it all comes down to dust,
I will help you if I must,
I’ll kill you if I can.
And mercy on our uniform,
man of peace, man of war —
the peacock spreads his fan!
LADY MIDNIGHT
I came by myself to a very crowded place. I was looking for someone who had lines in her face. I found her there, but she was past all concern. I asked her to hold me; I said: Lady, unfold me, but she scorned me and told me I was dead and could never return.
I argued all night, like so many have before, saying: Whatever you give me, I need so much more. Then she pointed at me where I kneeled on the floor. She said: Don’t try to use me, or slyly refuse me, just win me or lose me — it is this that the darkness is for!
I cried, O Lady Midnight, I fear that you grow old; the stars eat your body and the wind makes you cold. If we cry now, she said, it will only be ignored. So I walked through the morning, the sweet early morning, I could hear my lady calling: You’ve won me, you’ve won me, my lord.
YOU KNOW WHO I AM
I cannot follow you my love
You cannot follow me
I am the distance you put between
All of the moments that we will be
You know who I am
You’ve stared at the sun
I am the one who loves changing
from nothing to one
Sometimes I need you naked
Sometimes I need you wild
I need you to carry my children in
I need you to kill a child
If you should ever track me down
I will surrender there
And I’ll leave with you one broken man
Whom I will teach you to repair
You know who I am
You’ve stared at the sun
I am the one who loves changing
from nothing to one
SEEMS SO LONG AGO, NANCY
It seems so long ago, Nancy was alone. Looking at the Late Late Show through a semi-precious stone. In the House of Honesty her father was on trial. In the House of Mystery there was no one at all. There was no one at all.
It seems so long ago, none of us were strong. Nancy wore green stockings and she slept with everyone. She never said she’d wait for us although she was alone. I think she fell in love for us in nineteen sixty-one. Nineteen sixty-one.
It seems so
