Berlin, 2009

Berlin, 2009
We want more voices, thoughts and languages!

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Little Cathedrals of Capital

Between two black suits, the screen
as failure's beauty springs, unfolding
ornaments embedded in the bricks of banks.

My thought a mantle weaves between the
elements, the corners of the streets, finding
momentary lodgings in between each brick

wondering back in-midst the suits, reclines,
goes back a step or two, and
Everything has be-come
something entirely other
through the curtains' shade
the camera's strange angl
reconnects the stars without horizon.

Tell us more:
When this window shatters, the
color of the glass will wipe away
the lion's face in stone:
there are chairs that unfold
space and windows without bars
that sketch the outlines of prisons

My thought, hidden:
in blue, a shadow, wrapped in
space, rested against the light:
green and unusual, sometimes alive
the camera shifted, doubling the room.
There was a silence like a song.

Forbidding metaphors
we nonetheless take distance:
a flag, a rag the wind plays
with -- on the sails a stain
of living, hiding, lookin --

[Somehow very sad and very nice.]