{"id":359,"date":"2012-10-15T02:19:15","date_gmt":"2012-10-15T02:19:15","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.turtlepointpress.com\/traveltainted\/?p=359"},"modified":"2015-03-15T13:02:13","modified_gmt":"2015-03-15T17:02:13","slug":"poem-to-cry-in-ruins","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.turtlepointpress.com\/traveltainted\/poem-to-cry-in-ruins\/","title":{"rendered":"Poem to Cry In Ruins"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>Let\u2019s spit you and I let\u2019s spit<br \/>on what we used to love<br \/>on what the two of us used to love<br \/>if you want because this poem both of us<br \/>is a waltz and I can see<br \/>the dark and incomparable passing between us<br \/>A dialogue of mirrors abandoned<br \/>in a baggage-claim someplace Foligno maybe<br \/>or Auvergne la Bourboule<br \/>Some names are charged with remote thunder<br \/>Can we spit the two of us on these vast countries<br \/>where little rental cars wander<br \/>Can we because something must still<br \/>Something<br \/>unite us can we spit<br \/>you and I it\u2019s a waltz<br \/>a kind of fortuitous sob<br \/>Let\u2019s spit let\u2019s spit small cars<br \/>Let\u2019s spit that\u2019s an order<br \/>A waltz of mirrors<br \/>A dialogue nowhere<br \/>Listen these vast countries where wind<br \/>cries over what we loved<br \/>One of them is a horse on its elbows<br \/>the other a corpse shaking out a sheet the otherthe trace of your steps I remember an empty village<br \/>at the shoulder of a burned mountain<br \/>I can still see your shoulder<br \/>I can still see your elbows<br \/>I can still see your sheets<br \/>I can still see your steps<br \/>I can still see a town where there was no horse<br \/>I remember your burning stare<br \/>My empty heart a dead Mazeppa a horse<br \/>carries before me like that day on the mountain<br \/>Liquor fueled my race through martyr oaks<br \/>bleeding prophetically while<br \/>daylight died on blue trucks<br \/>I remember a lot of things<br \/>a lot of evenings<br \/>a lot of rooms<br \/>a lot of stairs<br \/>a lot of rages<br \/>a lot of stops in useless places<br \/>where the spirit of mystery still tried to rise<br \/>like the cry of a blind boy in a border station<br \/>I can still see<br \/>So I\u2019m speaking in past tense Laugh<br \/>at the sound of my words if you have to<br \/>He loved Was Came Caressed<br \/>Waited Watched over the creaking stairs<br \/>O violence violence I\u2019m a haunted manaited Waited deep wells<br \/>I thought I\u2019d die waiting<br \/>Silence sharpened pencils in the street<br \/>Sputtering taxi sped off to die somewhere else<br \/>Waited waited suffocated voices<br \/>Before the door the language of doors<br \/>Hiccup of houses Waited<br \/>Familiar objects took turns taking on<br \/>Waited the ghostlike look Waited<br \/>of convicts escaped Waited<br \/>Waited God damn<br \/>from a penitentiary of lights and suddenly<br \/>No Stupid No<br \/>Idiot<br \/>The shoe trampled the wool of the rug<br \/>I barely come back<br \/>Loved loved loved but you can\u2019t know how much<br \/>Loved it\u2019s past<br \/>Loved loved loved loved loved<br \/>O violence<br \/>It\u2019s nothing but a joke to those<br \/>who talk about love like they talk about a cousin<br \/>Fuck all that pretense<br \/>Do you know when it truly becomes a story<br \/>Love<br \/>Do you know<br \/>When every breath turns tragichen the colors of daylight provoke laughter<br \/>A draft a shadow in shade a name erased<br \/>Everything should burn and you know deep down<br \/>that everything does burn<br \/>and you say Let everything burn<br \/>and the sky smells like scattered sand<br \/>Love you bastards love for you<br \/>is when you happen to sleep together<br \/>Happen to<br \/>And afterwards Ha ha all of love is in this<br \/>And afterwards<br \/>we happen to speak of what it is<br \/>to sleep together for years<br \/>Do you hear<br \/>For years<br \/>like sails collapsing<br \/>onto the deck of a ship loaded with plague<br \/>in a movie I just saw<br \/>One by one<br \/>The white rose dies like the red rose<br \/>What is it then that so moves me<br \/>in these last words<br \/>The word last maybe a word in which<br \/>everything is terrible terribly irreparable<br \/>and heartbreaking Word panther Word electric<br \/>chair<br \/>The last word of love imagine that<br \/>and the last kiss and the lastonchalance<br \/>and the last sleep Look it\u2019s funny<br \/>I was only thinking of the last night<br \/>Yes everything assumes this cursed meaning<br \/>What I meant to say is the last moments<br \/>the last goodbyes the last sigh<br \/>the last look<br \/>The dread the dread the dread<br \/>for years dread<br \/>Can we just spit<br \/>on what we loved together<br \/>Let\u2019s spit on love<br \/>on our unmade beds<br \/>on our silence and on stammered words<br \/>on the stars even if they were<br \/>your eyes<br \/>on the sun even if it was<br \/>your teeth<br \/>on infinity even if it was<br \/>your mouth<br \/>and on our love<br \/>even if it was<br \/><em>your<\/em> love<br \/>Can we just spit<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><em>Translated by Jeff Clark<\/em><\/p>\n<div><em>\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p><i>Translated by Jeff Clark<\/i><\/p>\n<p>Let\u2019s spit you and I let\u2019s spit<br \/>\non what we used to love<br \/>\non what the two of us used to love<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":446,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[81],"tags":[37],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO plugin v21.1 - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>Traveltainted | Poem to Cry In Ruins - Turtle Point Press Magazine \/ TPPM<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" 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