La Lingua delli Uchelli

some men sit
and some men watch
and some men walk to places high
and some men look and dive beneath
the waters which reflect the sky.

I sit alone and wonder naked
as the branch is brought by bird...
"is this the branch which held the bird
which snapped and by and by
is brought to me with ease to be
the symbol of a death and peace.?"

I sit, a dot upon a line
imagining now, my point in time;
and as I tap the shoulder of my heart
a flutter of hopes, beyond the death
of distance and immeasureable time,
rustles in my mind....
"are bird-calls all they seem to be
or are they calls from beyond what's seen
and known,
beyond the bed of graves?"

My point in time,
a cart with wheels
whose turning waves the wings of thought
and rides me round
from birth to life's mid-fold.

And from this middle fold
some moments come
calm like lakes
to douse the irresolveables
of history.

I fall backwards through the vulva to the womb
waving italian songs like a boy
his arms embracing future
his penis smiling at the ground,
knowing that the time is right
to seed the earth
now heaven's flown.

©Julyen Hamilton 1994

Written after seeing the solo by Pep Ramis made
in memory of his father.