Blesok no. 30, January-February, 2003
This Road Alone
This road alone was left before me.
It is a forest or a tale; dirigibles land on the roofs as
the village removes its plague-stricken dead in
wooden carts that rumble away under the cover
of night. While the master shoemaker sleeps
fitfully, the dwarfs get busy making his shoes.
The desert stretches full-length in my dreams,
studded with dangers and cautionary tales.
It is a twofold message, part headed in a different
direction: one disappears like a squirrel into the
kingdom of flora inside of my head, the other awaits
me like a sentry in front of my door.
And there, in the all-night cafeteria where
immigrants hide their broken teeth in their
sleeves, like a drop of ink that travels from iris to
iris, the message lets me know the secret at last;
the empty glass on the table prays for some wine.
Eyes gaze into the distance, while Billie Holiday
sings from the core of her black agony: I SLAVED
And the earth floats among the planets.
On the bridge
that spans the white
buried with all
beneath the snow,
as it went by:
a woman who wept
and bit her nails
oblivious of the wind
that hiked her skirt
above her knees,
and cars, from that
moment on has been
haunting your eyes -
whenever you cross
a bridge, you can
almost see it
A song for the one who will walk
to the end of the century
If you happen to stroll
where there is
hardly anyone else
you will hear the wind
blow savage from
of slaughter, hot
like the breath of a furnace:
it will flap yesterday's
your feet, and make it kiss
the cooling asphalt
or slap the walls.
Where you stroll
the wind will sweep
yesterday's paper away
and fire will rage
inside and out, in
many spots of our world
It will devour people and buildings
but somehow never burn down the walls.
Annotiations of a Traveller
When I became aware
of death, regaining its purity from a fountain
of people from here, somnambulistically following their roads
it seemed to me
that dreams of mine were pyramids of sands
running out before my eyes
and I saw
my day running away against the current
away from that cursed place of a town.
It is the beginning that we choose
but you, the end, you are selecting us
and there is no way but the road.