he left home
independence on his tongue
wisdom in the books he fingered
at his back
the garden was a pock of green,
in the red of desert grit
he chewed a dried fig
the last of a fallen tree
now buried in the crumbling earth
he carried twice his weight in books
but heat and hunger
forced him to eat their leaves
then he had no food
and one night, as he slept
the earth swallowed him
he swam in the rivers that fed a city
and awoke in the wrinkles of a riverbed
to find the whispers of a path
chalked bones were cairns
he was living on the water's vapours
on mist from a distant sea
at last he fell down
the walls, dust spattered,
the gates hung askew
his bones were chalk
a fig sprouted from his palm
its roots sunk to the waters that fed the city
3 comments:
Is the series of same-syntax declarative sentences intentional? I found it a little distracting from the imagery, in that it fought against any rhythm.
"he swam in the rivers that fed a city
and awoke in the wrinkles of a riverbed
to find the whispers of a path"
That line is awesome.
i just now was able to watch your videos. FANTASTIC! make more! (mr. squirrel told me to tell you that he misses you, and to say hi to his relatives living in cape town)
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