BRESCIA
(and that is that)
I wander, and then I stop.
This preening wind blows through
the willows as the water runs below.
Everywhere - all around me - things
are signed and signified alike: the infinite
yet false sign of the deep blue sky, the
certainty of rocks within the water. All
the Earth is heavy, as people try acting kind.
-
There is a noble kind of blue that
brings no human matter: a startling place,
instead, a distant planet now claiming ownership
of each and all and over every one of us. A
God lives there - not 'the' but 'a' - and one
of those many things to which we still aspire.
-
I am jungle-uncomfortable in this strange
place, where things and people die alike
in droves, where lies are kept in chimneys
and cameras, where all things are illusion
and nothing really makes any sense at all.
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