Friday, March 30, 2018

Line by line


Life unfolds this way,
the face now resembles our grey matter
what is inside comes out.

The clouds will unravel again,
you can hear the wind 
moving them along.
I am done
telling others to listen.

Paper, then. My life. Drawn to fire.
All those the people carrying dead burdens
on their cracking lips.
They burned books
into their memories and cauterized the wounds
with chanting and invocations
shaped to sound like smoke rings
they read the signs.

As with people and colors
they gather but do not become,
one another,
as with clouds, the heaviest fall
and we say we needed rain.

In these conditions
the symbols bleed together
and it is red
Open.




Painting by Emile Claus, c. 1898, 'Ampelio, old fisherman of Bordighera', in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

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