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December 30, 2007

Feathers - 6 - Lux Nox

They live on the fourth floor.
When they look out their window all they can see is the other window.
When they awake in the darkness on the phone is the other phone.

They don't know each other's names.

A wire-mesh barrel rolling every 30 seconds
at certain hours
between nightfall and morning.

Beyond the pane is green grass holding back.

He says people make him feel strange.
He knows all the old songs.
He’s fifty years now.
He has moved ahead.

The Winter’s Wheel tramples our singing.
Work out.
Don’t quail.

She stands along the pale dock-light.
She puts on some make-up.
She looks back at those forks along the way.
She has nothing to lose.

The old of the new world's steeples
against the window
nothing will know that you are gone.

What they survived.
What they could not live.
What they were.
What they stood with.

What by their lights is time to.

She didn't want to do
nothing
with anyone.

There's no anger or patience.

They live on the fourth floor.
When they open the door all they can see is the other door.
When they awake in the darkness the hand that shakes is the other hand.

© Fortunato Caragliano. 2007-2010. All rights reserved.

Posted by lck at December 30, 2007 02:28 PM