Sunday, December 31, 1995

December 31

A gesture of resignation against uneventfulness, a fierce eddy, seized and searched, without a visible breath. A small rain of charity descends, not genuinely knowing nor desirous. No fatherlands, no uniforms. All barriers and limitations recede. Further into the morass and continue to go slowly, glancing along a dark avenue. Such strenuous efforts, useless tasks, conducted so grimly, never as a creature with a history. More than venerable, dead.

Into the black street, nothing. Every thoughtless word followed, the intelligence of rats that sailed no better.

Blood and other blood, to and fro, crammed with widows. Casualties of the sea upon the moonless nights, and trains over bridges. A patch of starry sky to adorn moments of rapture and elation.

So much freedom of movement forever and ever in that inner harbor.