Oblatio

I wish to give the windings of the moon to you
the blunt interrogation of the dawn
mercilessly posed before the soul of men

the streets unwalked the libraries
a page randomly taken—violently taken from a secret book
and mysticism and dew

I desire to offer all that I’ve never possessed
but in what I live ungotten to you

the locust-stricken regions of a tree
the unsuspected darkness of the rose
the never solitary loneliness of me
under a winter-rain someday perhaps maybe

I wish to offer silence
dead and weary silence to you

and that is all I am to offer to you

this is the eternal water of generous cosmologies
the stars reflected clear, as well eternal, in the water
the silence of a dreaming child—these are my offerings to you

this I confess before the night amidst the speeches of the water:
that time the sands of time the cruelty of time I give to you

this I confess before the moon that evil star:
I longingly pursue all that which may evoke you
hidden under a cloak of almost ethereal gloom
as sweet as drizzly childish dawns
only to think of you with unspeakable delight

before you I extend this sort of death
that rises from the heart unto the lips

I seek in every rose the ceasing of the rose
and in a whispering zest
I speak your name I speak
the vicious letters of your earthly name