Some Whole Wheat Words

And Other Up-Lift

Archive for March 2007

Brass And Swan

with 5 comments

Simple cartoon shadows of waterlogged grass around the base of every tree; reanimated dog shit ready for another karmic go-around; half-demolished bargain stores like nuclear ruins squatting in the damaged clay. Everything is melting.

They razed a building that stood on the hilltop above my house, and I don’t much mind. They will replace it with a sort of elaborate warehouse for the keeping of old people. A sadness repository; a large quantity of forgetful.

Since it is not April I cannot quote T.S. Eliot and besides I am in no mood. I will read to you a headline I read yesterday instead. Close your eyes.

“Teens Charged In Killing Of Two Mute Swans

Almost poetry, stamping and coughing in the cold, drunk, blunt fingers around the long neck, hurry up, it’s taking too long, shallow chokes puffing in the frozen air, get a branch, hurry up it’s Taking too Long, eye like a dot of jelly, this way and that, bash it in, steaming there on the ice, and why?

I don’t know. Things like this happen all the time. “Mute Swan” is a beautiful term. Beautiful things are noticed and smashed, or die of observation.

I’ve had dreams of brass caves that run for miles underground. I am lost in them but do not mind, and I become a connoisseur of their forms and textures. As I run my hands along the polished walls, it becomes progressively dim. Soon it is dark; my eyelids are left with the memory of brass-coloured lights, dancing in nothingness.

If I woke up from this year, I wonder if I’d remember it?

Advertisements

Written by wholewheatwords

March 15, 2007 at 10:32 pm

Posted in magic reality