Aug 26 3:15/lc

1.
Towards a Community of Ethical Views
          To pursue a venture in common: the Poet revisits the eyes of  Toyen. The moral basis of  Her boat. What is felt in freedom is Letters rising out of lyrical abstraction Word a concrete collage:

Poet boards her red boat:
There is a red song:

"The eye of the old women warning
The Seer cannot be caught, the Seer holds on to her bones
The Seer sells not her own, the Seer cannot be bought..."

There are four blue fish to throw back:
          Firstly the call to Borrow—precisely : "Do you have...?" what the poet           recognizes as
Timbre of—Hooked mouth of—of the unvoice: Crucial now [speaking meets with interfacing - what stiffens - what does not show, turned inward]
The ability when pressed for a person as object—for use—when this you hear  
          Throw it back!

          Secondly the cold fin, the low-down: re the above: to oblige must here be           translated as
To transact as
          Thirdly there will be no reciprocity
          Throw them back!

          Fourthly note the structural irony of the bones:  the insurrection mimicking the dominant, Passion giving way to packaging. A disquieting corruption
          :using the children, disappointing the children
          :the dead horse: a sure thing

An old Czech saying: "The fish stinks from the head down" has been reversed
          Throw it back!

-
There is this then:
          At a Certain Hour
          a woman was framed

In this window
Against all this
return to the eye pulsing
In the Poet's palm the
Alphabet of
Blood and milk
          Lick it

Leaves scratching gently against glass as being the nails of women calling at the windows of first-floor friends. Are we related? Toyen inquires. I consider you an exquisite example of blood, the Poet replies.

Her voice drums the evening, reassuring : "Yes, Great grandma,  the eyes in the back of my head
wide open and listening..."

The evening reassuring the great beauty within is Poet—No, there will be no Rehabilitation if you swim with the blue fish. And it is not for you to hold commerce with them

          At a Certain Hour you being naked saw
          under their skirts: Tails!
A tale! The small girl saw
that they had tails and
          she began trying to get away. She said: I want to go home—

-
Next, this Believing the body is equal parts water and clarity simply by listening to a clear voice. The poet presses her ear to her great empty bell. Finally the Child born. Exactly 40 weeks. Joy mingling with
Sorrow: [when the new child came his small head on her breast she cried she said for the old child born too soon the months a sky of glass came between his mouth, her breast]

Then:
Her mouth, her uplifted eyes: can stave off the growing influx of carpetbaggers
          At a Certain Hour
simply by noting the resemblance of these blue fins churning the deep waters to a whirl of flattery
          At a Certain Hour
beyond the circumference of the body a ludicrous periphery: scales weighing in, flinging themselves white with salt from the swinging baskets: see through their skin?