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Lelio S Shirra

Long You Must Suffer (After Rilke)

Long you must suffer, know nothing
when a fallen apple chunk, bit and
rank, lobs it's sufferance within you.
Almost loving what you ponder.
Nothing anyone garbles brings it back out.

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Snapshot of Rimbaud

You are ofcourse on the go somehow
but with the strangeness of stilled life,
white, dressed as in orderlies cloth.

Imagine this faded album-leaf,
mildewed, sunk in chrome light as some
collected piece heaped in archives

and after the many elopements
of yourself, as unfazed as a
pilfered day, there are no left-offs;

fingers and imprints.Run train,
sweat the blazing steel and steam
the inexorable formalities.


2009 revised

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Untitled

All day and into the next
all wasted agitation
receding and twice round and
down to the shops - the shaded
smells of detergent and noodles

all that summer, trees in phosphor
the light explodes and does not yield.
Back at dusk by the Kirk walls
I pour this petition, it's
gravity falling, through a

mute wall, a pencil thin mouth.
God does not pray for us
in his heaven dear fools,

the tree's hair quilts
rooftops beyond.
This starched sky and

[...] Read more

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Lighter

A single dropp of water about to fall,
it must be in a studio, blue upon

blue reflection - the last cushioned indent
swells out and around that photographed image

clasped around by hand with the grate of thumb-flint
and lifts a little fuel to spark on top.

Everything is found in situ as it was,
picked up, with mats, nick-naks, old typed recipes,

a whole house ploughed through, remembering something
lodged in my head, of a tiny bird in the

Atacama dawn - rarefied air held it's
fine feathers and dry frost, so dry it's small eye

was a brimful of deep brimming sky, and how
it seemed to sweat moisture I thought from it's

[...] Read more

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