MEDALLIONS
Statuary goes green, I see it every day. John
Witherspoon himself, standing. Read the message
like any of the tourists standing nearby - a camera
athwart their every eye. A homily such as this,
they should go read it in church.
-
And then their softly hammertoned voices : 'quickly
some see look at this this is where...'. Yes, this is
where oblivion trails. The void enters. The open
space. The chorus sings : 'we are nothing, nothing
at all. In all this immensity, we are nothing at all.'
-
On Saturday I hope to hop the hammer, take the orange
bus, ride the P, travel the campus loop. I'll return,
hidebound by a new adventure : a sandwich on the
green, sitting at benches hardly ever seen. The
Japanese Peace Pavilion Bell will surely have
to do. I am myself, and nothing too.
-
40,000 feet of dogs and people. The football players
and their dismal grind. The traffic and the cars; all
those tarmac surfaces covered with cold cuts and
mustard, beers and wine. What a world is this!
No comments:
Post a Comment