It is forbidden to enter
here. It is forbidden to jump
the fence, run
to the forest, the river, the mud
that makes you, a tiger a snake
a hungry pair of eyes. It is forbidden
to crawl into the dirt, to shudder
with the earth, to be red swollen and ripe and
burst with seeds like howls to boil
like frothing waterfalls. It is forbidden to birth rivers of breath, squeeze milk
from the moon, to make stars
dizzy-dance like fireflies,
to glow with forbidden light.
here. It is forbidden to jump
the fence, run
to the forest, the river, the mud
that makes you, a tiger a snake
a hungry pair of eyes. It is forbidden
to crawl into the dirt, to shudder
with the earth, to be red swollen and ripe and
burst with seeds like howls to boil
like frothing waterfalls. It is forbidden to birth rivers of breath, squeeze milk
from the moon, to make stars
dizzy-dance like fireflies,
to glow with forbidden light.
It's almost like a primal scream, as if stripping "love" itself of the discourse that surrounds it. It's also fantastic and surreal, and the erratic punctuation and capitals create a sense of feverish ramblings. At the same time, the repeated refrain of "It's forbidden" gives it a structure, akin to a mystical chant or spell.
ReplyDeleteI would almost say that I love it, if it were not forbidden.
Uff. That last line. I agree with Nelson over the erratic punctuation bit; very well captures the panting-pace (is that even a word? but you get what I mean).
ReplyDeleteA clarification: not entirely sure what squeezing milk from the moon entails here.