Flow Chart: a Poem
“Those days the wind blew only from one quarter; one was forced to make snap judgments, though the norms unfolded naturally enough, constructing themselves, and it wasn’t until you found yourself inside a huge pen or panopticon that you realized the story had disappeared like water into desert sand, although it still continued. I guess that was the time I understood enough to seize one of the roles and make it mine, and knew what I heard myself saying, but not whose yellow hair it was. Mélisande...? Oh, I’d come before to let you in, and saw only a chipmunk, and so…But now it’s nice to sing along, and read the newspapers together, and try on funny hats: only be aware that at daybreak there must be no trace of you, or the cock might not crow and there’d be hell to pay. Besides, you wouldn’t wish it even if we were together, as someday we may be. I say “someday”
for the sound of it, like a drop of water landing, but I also meant it, but now I’m standing just outside unafraid, listening.MoreLess
for the sound of it, like a drop of water landing, but I also meant it, but now I’m standing just outside unafraid, listening.MoreLess
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