Shadow Of A Neutrino
A grandiloquent assumption of man in having a vast expanse
of knowledge regarding the enigmatic progressions
of the infinite universe is as illusive as seeing
the hazy mirage of the physical
shadow of a Neutrino
Penned sometime in the past
decade or so...
The psychology of the sun is strange...
The violinist's taupe
strapped sandals, color of beach
sand, burning, slap tiles
with embedded grime, like
the charred plaster walls of a Syrerian
merchant. Anytime...a fear:
bombs dropped, scarring
an isolated biped life.
Morning edges spill
light the tint of egg-
whites commixed with the yolk, brewing
the dream that souses
the intangable
permeation of the air;
imbued rose colors
of birth; or a prom's
carnation, white tinted blue
like the cottony sky
draped over the fringes
of liminal lives cast onto
the arcane stage
of a paralyzed
mortality. A need
of warmth for the flower,
the snug petals that breach
an infernal cut into
the animus in life.
A stygian gash
insufferable like a pompei
brain cooked into glass,
a fossil the tinct
of diabolical eyes. An
appollyn rises
to seize the sun's foxy
neutrino, more easily
snared than bombs.
(fragment)
English version by Liviu Martinescu
50.
oddly the leaves seem to count us
in their fall
houses shaped as a shrill sound
nobody lives in nobody
often the poor hear the nought in objects
blind people's hands do not signify
in litheness of pure
bars stroking one word
that thought-lives us
imitating the wistfulness of
unborn gods
we sink too soon
in the sleep-iron landscape
our fingers deafened
by the cranial blade of computers
surrounded by liquid helium solitude
and pounded heart
in the vacuum mouth of objects
we can only be saved by the word
the word that grinds its own shape
with the intensity of a star
breathing its own catastrophe
the word through which the violet
ribs of children can be seen
sequential workers
their complexion as dark as statistics
the gauze bandages of goods
hiding rotting canals
we live in approximation
our eyes shredded
by speed
nonplussed we fail no notice
that our dogs return from hunting
bearing sumerian tablets on their collars
who are you coming out of the net of time
to touch our civilization
with a myrtle sprig
ay sleep hauls cities
on paltry claws
their music a breeze from the future
yet cybernetic bells snow down
on blue deafness
attach my thougths
signal my intentions
*****
the measure of my glance
cast upon chance
according to fate
****
never stopping
never stopping
sub-atomic
whispers
***
hurting
more
than
before
Eyes closed,
Hands pushed out into nothing
Trying to grasp onto the neutrino
That is something beautiful.
Open eyes;
Bitter-sweet truths of yesterday
That have now been ostracized
From this treacherous world,
Adhering eternally to the night.
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