George
Economou (1934-2019)
You
are sitting down
to
a late lunch
in
my castle on a hill
while
a jazz trio plays
then
suddenly
a
chemical reaction
takes
place---
and
you smell
the
scent of roses and feel
my
hair growing
on
every part of your skin
but
not the palms
of
my hands or the soles
of
your feet
Day
One
I
am standing
in
front of a group of musicians
controlling
the
speed of sound
then
suddenly
a
chemical reaction
takes
place---
saliva
pools behind
your
teeth sinuous the rhythms
under
my skin
your
lips move
audible inaudible
and
I begin to chant a secret
tribal
language
Day
Two 2
In
a triangle of haze
and
smoke I am following
a
marching band
appear
and disappear
then
suddenly
a
chemical reaction
takes
place---
spirals
of veins pulsate
nerves
and tendons drink color
sight smell taste
pale
and red your lips
my
tongue protrudes
from
your mouth and I taste
the
rain
Day
Three
You
are hanging
upside
down and side to side
I
swing
earth air fire water
then
suddenly
a
chemical reaction
takes
place---
I
am a barley plant
cut
down dead white the barley
plant
cut down
you
are a pouched mammal
attached
to a nipple
mother
and father crawled
onto
the land
Day
Four
3
I
am flapping
my
right hand and your left
hand
is balled into a fist
the
universe contracts e x p a n d s
then
suddenly
a
chemical reaction
takes
place---
the
smell of saffron
and
lilac morning to evening
evening
to morning
milk
of the mother misery
milk
of the father terror
vigilant
the babe sucking carnal/
spiritual
Day
Five
Through
the gaps
of
my fingers vibrating subatomic
particles
blink in and out
vertical/
horizontal
then
suddenly
a
chemical reaction
takes
place---
a
breast vein
as
thick as a finger amorous
the
greedy seed
every
day bears the data
grain grape bread
and
wine your skeletal frame
the
limbs spreading apart
Day
Six
4
Behind
you
a
black line appears disappears
a
latent image
a
wall of brown dust
then
suddenly
a
chemical reaction
takes
place---
a
black line curved
like
an embrace lay your hand
feel
the bones
under
my skin
your
sculpted pelvis
vertical/
horizontal corkscrews
of
white smoke
Day
Seven
In
the twenty-first century
the
here-and-now in the zone
diverging
from
a course of events
then
suddenly
a
chemical reaction takes
place---
a
metallic taste on
my
tongue I am an old
woman
sipping
black tea
you
are a little boy
sitting
cross-legged under
a
dead blue glow
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