UNIVERSITY
(the reading)
Offer me a cloak then, or bury me,
for I am a harbinger of light, but gone
dead; and there is nothing left. So
little happens in the space of a street.
The raider wearing plastic boots comes
by - he holds a shovel and nothing more.
'Everything once in the water has now
come on land - those mystifying monsters
and the fish I cannot understand.'
-
Then the poet enters the scene :
He takes down the sign announcing
his presence and dictates : 'I am not
here, and I am nothing. I am old.
My fourteenth book has just come
out, yet it only works if you buy
it twice.' We are listening to
T. S. Eliot on a recorded disc.
He sounds like a dry, dour fish.
-
I hold the microphone cord -
just to remember to what I'm
connected. My voice has no
bounds, and someone is
giving all this to me.
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