Inhuman Swill : Time
October 7, 2012
October 4, 2012
April 3, 2012
Old man walking an old dog
Old man walking an old dog
Not so very long ago would have been
Old man walking a young dog
Not so very long from now might it be
Old man walking a young dog again
Once upon a time might it have been
Young man walking a young dog
Oh to picture them walking together
Young man walking a young dog
Young man walking an old dog
But it would have been a different dog
But it would have been a different man
March 5, 2012
La sagrada tarea
Today I read
about a man
who has spent
the past thirty
years writing
someone else's
biography.
And he's still
not finished.
Not to quibble
with anyone's
life's work, but
that's a lot of
years to spend
on somebody
else's life.
I'm not sure
I've even spent
that much time
on my own.
How does that
even happen?
A random turn,
a shiny detour,
and suddenly
you've walked
a hundred miles
in someone
else's shoes?
Too late to
turn back, the
only way out
is through?
No doubt my
own devotion
to invented lives
in invented times
and places
would look as
puzzling to him.
What, reality not
good enough?
Earth not room
enough for you?
I guess not.
Or maybe they're
really the same
thing, these
painstaking
recreations of
unknowable
worlds, fictions
based in fact
or vice versa--
cathedrals
never to be
completed in
our lifetimes,
which, with luck,
will still draw
tourists after
the architects
are dead.
April 26, 2006
