Trembling Ladders 2 & 3  


Eleni  Sikelianos   

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Diane Di Prima   

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Murat Nemet-Nejat  

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Tania Elizov 

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Jeremy Reed  
            "Weird scenes inside the gold mine" -Jim Morrison
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Ilhan Berk 

Time of Hunting


Tea Time

(You! and tea time) bringing the house to life. Halayik is pouring the tea. Lumps of
sugar, lumps and lumps. Bedevi rewinds the clock. The Bey's slender penis slightly
trembles. The castle gate squeaks. And a girl called Rage wakes up a girl, called Flower.

...and the Bey comes downstairs and kisses you. The house trembles slightly. And
house gone.

The child lets go of his paper ship in the pool. Returns and waits for tea.

Your face sails far.



Men who went hunting are returning. They hold birds on their hands. Quietly the women
waited for the men. Men return with flowers In their hands. Swans look at the men
returning from hunting. The hearths crackle. The women sit down and are read to from
a book. Birds and flowers join. A peacock stands up as in a painting. A casement
window opens from inside, closes from inside. And the Sultan's bootmaker fetches the
Sultan's boots at last. Then they go hunting again. A man comes and teaches the women
calculus (women knew mathematics then). A dog watches them and leaves. Then the
cavalry soldiers come. Nobody thinks of the battle. There is only loneliness in battle.
It can not enter any house. A Jew sits backwards at a student's desk and fucks.
A girl looks at other girls. The man holds the woman's hands. The faces of the women were


                                        a long





There were no Americans then. Women wore underwear (Terry Moore visited Istanbul as
Mr. Hilton's companion when the Hilton Hotel was opened and a newspaper photographer
took her picture her knees up in bed with no underwear under her skirt. Oh, the scandal!).
I began a moronic dirty tasteless poem, but couldn't finish it Women were then in decorous
paintings. Nobody went into houses. Nobody went hunting in the houses. But soldiers did
return from hunting. But a book of tales always stood open. A window leaned against the sky,
(at which we used to look.)



First women met him. First a woman firmed up her breasts. Then all the women.
The male fighters used to fall asleep.
I used to play. I ran my hand along the shores of his mouth.
Two row boats were shoved into the water. Then we used to sit and wait for him.

A woman is washing herself next to us, watching her wash herself. I took her lines
and went away. The woman holds your hips. She knocks against the door. Slender.

A horse is ridden outdoors
                                      snow white
                                               is let go.

It returns somehow,




Upstairs is loneliness. Castle walls on castle walls. Castle walls on sheep, silk, Egyptian
red. Tecimen drops his bolt of silk and leaves. Embroidery frames are straitened. The
maids' slender faces become clear. A liveried boy holds the gate of the castle. Musicians
arrive. They twirl their moustaches before the Sultan.
The island remains far away. A bolt of silk falls into the water. Three Beys laugh.
It reaches us.


The queen descends
                      shot dead
Something else descends
                      with her,
                      like sex



The women were left downstairs. Very much downstairs.
Vineyards went to seed. A child put
                                      his long
                                                  on ours.

(The trees cross water, the water. The black servant fetches the mirror, the knitting
needles. The sheep's fleece is sheared and combed. A woman makes love to a balcony.
Galleons, the phaeton with two horses and the streetcar enter.) Clang.

She opens a book and reads. A black servant passes by with a painting. A sleep leans
against a balcony.

The child took always the side of the canal.



...and men looted those places and joined the fleet.
Then the Sultan comes in. (I am looking, suddenly your hands are different.) The Sultan
crosses his legs & Sits down. Your feet disappear. They leave into the night Then that
man long,

he takes you. You...

The Sultan keeps sitting. Stares at Ahmet III.

That man doesn't let you go. That man laughs. Winking caresses the rope. The feet that
you possess (these feet never came to me) - these feet - lean against my sky.
The Sultan stands up. The fleet stops. Maybe the Sultan never stands up. Too weak.
Rope climbers never climb up. High wire walkers, tents and bridges, the acrobats who
roll trays in the air never come up. So that the Sultan amuse himself. I, where can I take
you? Where is where?
A fragment of an arm is out of the phaeton. Maybe they are burning the fleet and
we are of of here.

And the Sultan stands up. (The buses stop.)

               A woman takes a woman's mouth in her mouth. Upstairs.



The baby boy lies prone. As if born this morning he lies prone. Some water seeps out
first. Potent, slippery. Sneaks towards the other water. Then like a moray spreads
and embraces the other water. The other water becomes wavy. It keeps staying wavy.
Then as if washed with soap it alters.

Flat, it falls flat.

The girls pass by. The men avert their eyes. Pressing on the gas they pass by. The
yellow stuck on those oak floors and didn't come off.

I pick one of the boys and leave.



They are carrying a white cross downstairs. The child Mohammad is laughing out of the
walls. Chora on her beautiful camel is feeding the birds. Three four storey houses.
Arched, tiny, windowless.
With yellow walls and floors. And their beds are white (beds are white in every
epoch, they are white in our epoch too). There was a lot of crying. Then the winter
sweets come out, rose waters are sprayed. And donkeys, camels are pretty. A black servant
gathers the girls together & strips them. The maidens cover their vulva. In a painting
Zeus kidnaps Europa and rapes her. How beautifully the man held the book of stories.
Angels come, but don't come down.

And in cavernous rooms they make love. Women took no one with them & made love.
Grown a bit big they come downstairs, attracted by our white sides. Maybe they love your
hands. I was weak, couldn't stand up. Looked. I looked & I was weak. Wore a new
crescent shirt. The horse as always waited at the gate.

                             grown big you came downstairs
                               grown big by my looking

I stood up.



One night the hunting ends. Sefine comes out. The galleons stop. The three Beys get off
their horses. Partridges, falcons, mountebanks, the fleet get off. A man makes the corpse
laugh. The Queen takes a pheasant and leaves. The men unbag the slain animals and
distribute them. Boys light up the hearths. And women leave traces of paper light wind
behind their flounces. The frigate stops. Copper trays of halva come in. The slain animals
reek. The ember dims. Suddenly the house is full. The house recedes. The tents come
down. A man burns the slain animals to cinder. What a beautiful child is the hunted
animals, with naked feet...

And I set the galleons to fire. I stand against the live smell of the flesh. The meat
recoils and waits. Copper trays infested with rice stand still. The girls walk to the
pigeons. The girls cross the canal, walk to the pigeons. They hold their hands to the fire
and don't withdraw them.

You kept climbing up a ladder kept climbing down.

The slain stand up.



(Oh, you!... and) The dead comes in the evening, ember. We look. The black servant
lights the candle. The girls come out. The horse doesn't stir. Suspires on the dead.
The sky comes in. Rolls up the carpets. Calls up the girls. The hand snatches the story
page. The sounds come downstairs. Wander around the house. They come and steal a pitcher.
It, it stays yellow. The nail cuter walks in and cuts the hand nails, toe nails, already
dead, of the Sultan.

The corpse is bored. Kicks back the carnation.

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