Dom Gabrielli

LondonAches

(a love and hate poem)

the body stands as the rampart

it is evening and grey

i rise from slumber

i glance across the murky Thames

the bridges churn with the muck

of invoiced dreams

crossing into slums of unconsciousness

i would be that body if i knew

but i abandoned knowledge

for the clarity of seeing

hence my eyes close

and i breathe away the nonsense

and the arguments

i look to hold your breasts

as the poet once dreamed his muse

i am the first to bring these words

into the bloodstream

into the spunkstream of real love

what killed the poet

brought him back again

in the cave and the cauldron

in the simmering desert mirage

came the voice

i ignored them by writing

one by one

they found their way into the fire

of oblivion

chests of raging words

you were not yet born

i could see you

i could see your father's eyes

the generosity of a moon

to lend you the light

to laugh away the idiocy

your body

my body

the sewers of this world

the shit in posh cars

dismissing the journey

watching the screens

of their incapacities

floating in and out

of programmed orbits

the lines cross

this nocturnal raga

the crash victims in their defiled path

the river poisoned to the cold sea

the dead fish and the laden algae

these lines

writing the material possibility

of challenging the texts

of preposterous goons

with proven spells

your body born into mine

as light into light

as echo into echo

close your eyes

there is too much to see

lay it on a disused canvas

until the welcome of forgetting

graces your orgasms

with the lash of living

the buildings in gridlock

the televisions in overload

the Islamist hysterics belting

and belching grenades

from their fingers

the storms coming and going

neither heard nor felt

in the unsent beginning

nothing ever happened

libraries have always burnt

and the writers in them

have always escaped

the statues and statutes

which hope to teach the world

not to follow them whilst

revering their very bones

in crematoriums of conference

my body your body

the light your light

there is no more day

just shades of grey

lodged in the bottom drawer

of a vagabond existence

i need to get out

as Celine blew a hole

in his own mind

i need to hear the music

of the winds in the olive summits

i need the silver under my tongue

your whispers

your Indian whispers

Dom Gabrielli studied literature at Edinburgh, Paris and New York Universities. He has translated widely including published works by Bataille,  Leiris and Jabes. In the early 1990’s, he left the academic world to travel and devote himself to writing. Gabrielli has published two books to date. The Eyes of a Man (2009), his first book of poetry, and The Parallel Body (2010), which he recently translated into French (Les Corps Paralleles, 2012). Gabrielli travels extensively from his home in Salento, Italy, where he produces extra virgin olive oil.