Richard Rathwell: Unrevised love poem

To be Googled (for Metatext)

We all go through each other whether we like it or not and this may be a partial proof of Averroism and other heresies and witch crafts with words and deeds as well as proof that the beginning of courtly love at Castelnou and Narbonne when Sufi Arabic poets worked out the method and the steps of it going from loving from afar through first sight to illicit desire and endless dual adventure of soul and flesh which the Christians caught onto as they all began to speak that going through and leaping language to both sides twisting up and down through the Cathars through the romantics where every poem is the same poem and our individual soul dies but the one in the river goes on forever loving rebelling


















And it worked well that notion that there are two fields of truth one the field of what is called reality and reason with those iron dialectics and the other which is the field of image and magic including divinities and really deep feelings ennobled by intellect sitting there with Bukharin and Saint Stephen and Rosa and Eleanor and you





















Two fields of truth never say the arrows and the flame


Always
The mud of the Aude took Narbonne twenty miles from the sea and no canal would save it poor Septimus another poor kingdom of double light gone

Seville
Skodra
Vancouver






















































Add your
Rivers gone to the sea


Here I implore you read this or don't as
I once drove with you to Florence chasing light through wet and lime green fields past an immobile river past the sign that said Ravenna thinking it was another industrial town despite the climbing yellow dawn and so missed the wizardry of dying Byzantium through the cryptoportico through which I crossed the mountains up and down to Orveito Butte snowed over where Siger de Brabanto saint of the visual exegesis died and I didn't know it even though he had been Bruno Pound and me


















I do now back at Castelnou halfway between heaven and hell, Rome and Seville, Prato Del Moro and the Ocean between the Tec and the Aude is returning here

It is orange and the fields are rows it is where the love came from and went and is still