Saturday, July 13, 2013

4520. RESERVOIR

RESERVOIR
A secret voir dir, all that presumed matter, the
material left in the closet, the drum whacking
hard on the tabletop's edge - I remembered
all this as from a fabric torn from another time.
My mother's lantern was of a Venetian lady,
while my father was only an Albanian seaman's
offspring. Spouting fire, they both were, instead,
from some emotional Etna I never bothered to visit.
...
-
If  -  in looking back at the bones  -  one recognizes
a face amidst a skull or femurs, can any of that
be made to mean something? The evidence factor
which draws near as the day of reckoning rises
becomes all the more important. You can run
around, like a titan's powerplay pushing forward,
trying to make all things fit, but it's really then just
anarchy which rules in the end, and the reservoir
alone overflows both with water and with blood.

No comments: