Extract Sounding the Other Lighta Biography Majena Mafe

7/29/2019 Extract Sounding the Other Lighta Biography Majena Mafe

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sounding the other light

… a biography

majena mafe



…because it was a woman

who built a house…a shining girl tore it down…

Hildegard of Bingen Scivias



Prologue

larynx of light 6

I

A Shining Girl

un-house bright 15

the bright within the blind spot 31

fetid flower 46

Interlude

stealing into the word for torch 50

II

A Woman Built a House

within the bright a blind spot 63

sounding liquid aside stone 79

Epilogue

nocturne’s iris 98



Prologue

larynx of light



LIGHT:

(this what

this… …where

darkness preceed-es the hole …as me…

ho-el-ed up

there is no nothing…or samething

…named. namename named as me)



(of reflection being as speech unwhole. unsaid…walled-up

as open. a tunnel a-cross…simil-ar sim-u-lacra. with-in hark-

dark halls welled written…(and I write it down for the

blind…light ) LIGHT…but am I not…the lighter of shared

darkness. am…I knot…the torch, your light-house, the flame,

sour aurora, lighting your all, your illuminant. not at nor on

nor one. I am within-goneglare. I am in you-r glaring gap,

piercein’ a gated glimpse, the glint,…as an glissade, I am

holed in the great gulf, your glissando, a-the listen, glisten,

your glister, glitter, glower, glower…without self…grief me

over…tear tears. unseenly. my blind bright unable to say my

face. what is my name? bare me wet shiny tears…)



(voices fall from the wooden mouths of small men who sit alive on knees of bigger men

in suits. strings play mechanisms. behind the wooded walled off throat-s.

some spit out messages that are if unclear, dear… they shape what I’d hoped for solid

to become.

some fly to firm reason because of…no doubt

some shake…no…they were never

some are doused forced through a bigger whole than many.

each time the mouth is open a new craw comes out, similar but not same as…be in in

two twinned collatical lapses of time and muscle around the same breath of air. some

voices make it a practice to cope a copy a way with a plumb in their mouths with the

accent, with a twang…minding the elocution spelling out rhymes to spit-air. others as a

profession become the voice of others disembodied their faces nonsense they become to

look alike too.

the anatomy the larynx situated as a bell curve suspended as a bone dove in the pillar

that holds the mouthpiece where they do come from… thoughts do they rise in their

heads flood in the throat pump air over the struction and back up pour out over the

tongues through the open teeth spat from the pursed and open lips through the air flung

to the face of the other entering the ear encircling the...

mouths open onto ears and breath love. I’ve seen it

AND THEN SOME)



(mechanical voices

the voice of the lover in the poem says come here …to this spot in the paper believe it is

me enter me… here

the voice of the… tyrant

the voice of the carmelite is rare indeed. the voice of the girl lurancy is shrill. or flat.

here is a doll says dora.

I can’t says the eclectic. I will says the liar. I did says the minor…

I will. lie. says the man.

henry was too big for his boots…

but lurancy…lurancy walks and walks till her feet sit her still.)

within the visible I head the dirge dire dialogue of the thin brightness

through the bare small words. the base the matter.

The corner of this page. in-moist frame…it wells up. tearing mine sinew. swell. at the

ocean of loss…spinning on the head of a pin, each one an eye, forward vapors. fog…dew

and droplet. lake. spoon. utter thunder and fume desiccated rainbow as spigots. deltas

and locks undone…a blind white of bellies slimed trout, toad-throat and pelted wigs hair

down dripping rivulets across bare backs, in blackened pools bore wells and ink pots, in

encompass cracks against crystal of blue glass whipped in the drip jugs medicine and

lineaments juice perfumes a tonic. in soak of to-bathe, instep the steep. in eternal launder

of floors and walls and ceilings. cloths midstream. clear cleansing. in the crack of a

boiled egg, at the gurgling of the throat. the death wheeze. in pneumonia and dropsy. in

the green and in the blue. in lapis. in phlegm and lymph. in dews and drifts and swift



shifts. in flows and eddies in jellies and in…all heat…in the fever of nervous palms, in hot

breasts that refuse milk…the blaze of anger, the flame of phosphorous, of frenzy, of hot

churned fear. in the firing and discharging, fuel, in allowment. allmovement…in heated

straining bowels…breath...in the basins that are empty and the basins grumble of

discontent, the rumbling cries…octaves of allegros…in throats and chests expanding

toward hope of more ever more and again…the fall back to empty…life…the next

thing…thoughts, hopes that move out…yearnings…needs un to fill, to furnish daydreams,

glut past reflections, tomorrows betterments…ground…the field, the open, the fell, the cut

the cut down...the flattened…the level raze…great girders as grinding stones and holes

that are uncarved out empty crypts the home the cave, the cavern. the hold up, the

hold...out. the clavicle at the sternum, caramelized bone the spleen…carapaces…

conglomerates…silica and carbon…salt. and in ether that holds all as luminescence on

the inner side…)

(refraction halves spit on the tongue

what do you see…

poured on over till the space of dark minutia flies

…a word

in multitude, bright all, is gone

mirage am I…here as the drop warm

that you seek.

to show.

you see.

and flame

this lamp the word words fall part in the

handle) and close to the corneal eye eyle

a harboring comes undone and enters the tryst of

utter unshape along the sinews of ganglion and cone…)



(…a syncope at atime

ahansomegodplayingwiththealphabetofnaming

to each segregating a thing a called for

the nothing- as Sophia say your wise words…

from selective portions

you see your hand

behind the flame

the frame behind…at the arms short length

my voice becomes me

a documenter of frames. The torch has fire at its throat)

(a reflection)…(in refraction)

my self erasure

ventriloquised

a camouflaged

dis-sembled flows

in choice lies the voice of the absent

nowhere…and now here…where…

a great small expansion has come into me

myself is further…something has fallen away...left with ‘that’…



from one estimate towards another the filament draws first one way and then not…)

(stoppard as sun as flame as frame)

(rather to. flow. out. on. through. away from words .overunder. up. inside…dispelling

into the walls of the throat in its breathing…down corridors of flesh, the lilies lie flat…in

structure this cosm of labyrinth fresh and verdancy…gene cells an awareness. a

succession of awful awarenesses…silent deserted cordon breakers…filtrate towards the

corners of the cornea that appear in consequence of doubling. fall’n between one system

and another of blood, of sap, of plasma of the imaginary, of memory…and wonder. bright

unutter. to be ever poured as, as heat, as flush…widest as to pool from an eye across the

field that shines heat …golden as husks slip against husk in narrow openings…and small

as mice in the womb of the first born of the first born hunkering for warmth. open in the

belly…winging back the peel as layered to most furthered openings and lungs un

thorax’d squeezed shut as they are pulled from the formed cages uttering a half formed

tone. a name. call me… I stand alone dripping…

beat then one two. to the nomore. to the denegrade and the sullen…decompose)

… paradoxically each tongue on my name is lies dark



I

A Shining Girl



un-house bright



GIRL:

…a move in me imploring, imploding the darkness pooled as me.as here.

…where small light sunlights. piddles puddles…where and there as boxed too.

on floor boards,

skirt dirted, dirty skirted walls, in just about space, neither here nor there, neither too

much or too wide a periphery on the cusp of brilliancy.

a yawn in each direction. all of them filigree lack. more lack with bright and gossamer

and sheathing restory windowed towards the outer-side.

two small filaments of bright white stab a delve across this room…the gap unclose as

specks swim poker dot three dimension spool pools of pollen splice hair and dust

this my skin.

the slow aching of moments in tiny splinters of how…catch swathes.

sun palms. open. up against.

circumnavigated in tiny frames.

the culminating.

the operating.

undone.



…must there is sure. outside there is four times more.

more light most light than I can swallow more most light than I can hold up or away

from

more more most light brighter

(…outside the dark and play)

…in here a dark is slashed. a membrance. each. here once drab a drape, hung along side

another fabricated in a subtle remove from all others. one bordered by bunches of red

silk berries, stabbed over and over. ringed as coral of deeper long line slip shod

stitches…each pool hoping whispering/a little song cherry cherry cherry to thesun...shine. light. each other. another. holed up. pierced with slabs of shine entering

through here. door small (centrifuge). another is third with its muse. and another nother

is spun with tiny lemon spot dots.

is grazing in nicks…ticks…pricks…a face of gossamer, as breeze brings itself splash

up to me. mine eye. to mine as together I stand in the middle stilling and unreeling,

thoughts…of further and fuller farther.

.out aways.



(a container contained

from innerside outersee…but out she will say. sent to fudge… come to the edge

repeatedly.

often enough to preamble the blistered…she will be out on the innerside. out of the

outerside)

(in cupboards sun cannot light

…a dark flower a dark tulip)

…in this cupboard there is darkness doubled. two darkness’s in all the world

…a lift of latch to handle on pull…reaching for to open

and

…inside the flower is brimming with tears dark eyes struck/ open.



(sure memories past the seen)

…there was small light on the mantle, sure a sign

sure as light. a bridge

in the pane from the flame

…no light on me mine. cause I turn round

the house is fallen away. a dissipate in the glare ahead.

the shaped is broken the shaped broken away

…as I move memory so far away is fallow

(daydreams releaving (a) content)

…in memory…my picture…tiny glints in small holes on the pink china filigreed silver

and crystal chrome…the table laid with all the food and the air is full of voices and

them talking words of natter… …clinking worlds and rustling skirts against the legs

inside them. my chin rests on the edge…above…there is plenty everywhere…the table

capes the floor in boxed peaks of white stiff stuff sewn over with small bulbs of cream

.stitchery.

.below.



…to

arrange reassemble ro-tate seed’n read just

the unseen

unsaid.

the handle is off.

and look into light’s eye on-me

…to ask it its name…to speak it…bright

light will be gettable…possible come-at-able. a welt of hope. lettable.

moonset me no more.

I will pleat moist light into pintucks. plait it into cuffs,

shirr it in the hems of puckered dog ears.

the dimmer will eclipse. implying light within each crimple, wrap and wrath unfill.

(truly darkened)

…my true body pressed in here, lacks the full. its scuff swelt skin here won’t peel.

its mind meanders rooms within that dismantle and reassemble unclasped

repeatedly.

slip…discontinuity from form to empty. like a deepest pull.

…not constant in self anywhere.

I repeat

what dark is here.

so I see not the shade, in me. I leave… …. … …. …



…leaving the house the deadend hope box

I am stepp-ed-ed out.

towards’n forward’n from step to ground. pulling the hemmed skirted up with the right

hand as I swing down unpicking it with my left…my drawn in self is turned towards an

underside of feeling… a gulp of breath a lift, the head and opens hit out with my voice

blind aside

drazzle’n of sun wherein

a

glint

gleam

halo’d

a shimmer

(in a gulp of the outer the heat hot breath and at chestlift her head comes up. I saw it.

hit in the face with the sty of blind dazzle across her eyes. at.

wherein she stops and out and up…becomes the wide

something up ahead for brightness

is everything now for brightness)

…bright lightness

…a long line of more highness rightness

(and behind) …my feet will draw bright lines across the empting field behind-ing

If I walk, If I walk

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Extract Sounding the Other Lighta Biography Majena Mafe

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