Monday, September 19, 2005

A long wait for translation: Tungst*n; La D*rni*r* Mod*.


   for an instant words
bob up in a music flow
   vacuous · twinkling

and dull gray noon is burning
i pass my turn and go back

   salmon-apricot
sky this morning as prior
   and will blossom again

nilca and gnomic salmon
kodak turncoat apricot

   a tiny lizard
gold porchlight · lotophagoi
   dog collar tinkling

in a dark livingroom
mix two kinds of granola

   sunny and dark clouds
and words fail · furious shift
   sands · a body floating

crimson glow on a building
turns cobalt as i slog back

   its windows as bright
as that day of wild watching
   folk running from dust

my own past has but scant sign
of tracks · contrails gold against



"The only books in Santayana's cell were his own--and a set or Toynbee's recently published history, which he was reading characteristically; that is, he first broke (or foxed) the spine of the book and undid the sections; then, as he finished reading each section, he would throw it in the wastebasket."


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