THOR HAMMER GODS
Just like that; the long stretch of
possibilities, the summoning of endings.
Watching (once) the guy with silver hair,
spray-painting iconic images of Jesus
onto canvas, I was reminded of a play:
the long-lost sailor, now home from the
sea, cannot get the image out of his mind -
five maidens cast on a rock, illusions to be
sure, yet singing in very beautiful voices
the praises of all creation. And now, the
sailor on land, weak with his own diminished
mind, seeks them out once more - every
corner bar, every alley, every warehouse
entry. He leans on buildings, captivated.
He smokes away his time, lost in reverie.
And then, just once, he sees a glimmer:
somewhere, rounding a corner, he sees
them. Then they are gone. Nothing left,
he knows, but the guy with silver hair.
Just like that; the long stretch of
possibilities, the summoning of endings.
Watching (once) the guy with silver hair,
spray-painting iconic images of Jesus
onto canvas, I was reminded of a play:
the long-lost sailor, now home from the
sea, cannot get the image out of his mind -
five maidens cast on a rock, illusions to be
sure, yet singing in very beautiful voices
the praises of all creation. And now, the
sailor on land, weak with his own diminished
mind, seeks them out once more - every
corner bar, every alley, every warehouse
entry. He leans on buildings, captivated.
He smokes away his time, lost in reverie.
And then, just once, he sees a glimmer:
somewhere, rounding a corner, he sees
them. Then they are gone. Nothing left,
he knows, but the guy with silver hair.
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