SHROUDED MAN
(for James Fenimore Cooper)
Let me put it this way :
the icicle is in the bowl, the
hand is on the water. What is
before me is the glass-image mirrored.
A life of death, a resemblance but not
the real. Why does the glimmer-glass
shudder, Mohican man? How far the
golden path through these Algonquin
hills? We've lost the world eternal.
All we've got now are settlers, hustlers,
roustabouts and bastard misfits knowing
nothing of either world. The Natural
calls the Supernatural, but to them,
nothing answers back.
(for James Fenimore Cooper)
Let me put it this way :
the icicle is in the bowl, the
hand is on the water. What is
before me is the glass-image mirrored.
A life of death, a resemblance but not
the real. Why does the glimmer-glass
shudder, Mohican man? How far the
golden path through these Algonquin
hills? We've lost the world eternal.
All we've got now are settlers, hustlers,
roustabouts and bastard misfits knowing
nothing of either world. The Natural
calls the Supernatural, but to them,
nothing answers back.
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