the first death : untitled diptychs The First Death - by Dimitris Lyacos VIII Final concept harbour which has broken there where it crumpled our faces there where ikons soaking and dissolving scoured the rusty beds with haven sleep and holy candle fading keeling over amid the wailings the friendly hug which turned to stone for ever in a vein where death drips dispirited nods and flesh-consuming intercourse and embraces on the slighted shape of the saint who is baptised in fever and empties our bodies' skins and discharges black ruins of the tissues entrails the fir tree's primary jewellery then as we were nestling below the turf of the dream noiselessly in the root of the sickness which was opening a road and a door leaning tilting into the darkness, light sure prophesies, whirlpools drowning the promontories and the place was becoming wrinkled without pathways and we were casting anchor in our innards and chains were harvesting the senses and the affections are shattering and the forefathers used to navigate in the expanse of madness close-bound bundles being pressed together into the pattern of condemnation indescribable shadows and rent apart and the mercy which was granted them of asphyxiation while the pulley-wheel of memories spins red-hot the un-nailing of my boyhood years and the funerary gifts which uncover the frenzy crumb from the stars coffins under the rain forests inclining into pubic hair lonely orgasms crippled lovers and the unique desolation of their lustful mouths