When the sodium lamps evaporate their tired stock, I wonder if walking home at night in the rain will still be such an ageless pleasure, a simple joy to watch you stagger up cement sidewalks, ringed in a corona of … Read More
Reach for a hardcover book with his name
sprawled across the top. It’s only natural,
you consider, to be drawn in by philosophers whose
names you once pronounced phonetically.
Stasis in darkness.
Then the substanceless blue—
In the picture I have of you, Melts in the wall.???
The idiot
A cleft in your chin instead of your foot,
your root,
I never could tell where you—
Put your foot—
For the hearing of my heart—
It really goes.
“Why does it happen that our time in Warsaw culminates in this very room, face to face with a novel that seems, much like the Palace of Culture and like the current incarnation of the city of Warsaw, to plant itself resolutely on top of a history that has no monuments, no voice to speak for itself?”