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scullers at dawn
arne weingart
like all artists
you start out in the dark
pushing off
alone from the silent docks
of the thousand
black rivers and black lakes
with no special
purpose in mind not transport
or carnage
or measurement not even
for pleasure
exactly but for speed in
these narrow
fragile boats you tie in and
you move your slides
forward you set your hands
at the catch
and now all at once you pull
the sun explodes
like blood behind your eyes
and the black world
moves under you toward morning
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上一篇：good pink. bad pink. 下一篇：thirst |
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