The
ice was here, the ice was there
The ice was all around....
Are you okay?
Are you today
who you are yesterday?
How is it going?
What is it that goes?
What is it that comes?
Who are these words meeting and
greeting
one another as if to say no day had passed
no month
no year
no decade
no century
no millennium
no ten thousand years?
Is recognition the essence of
repetition?
Or is it as imaginary as poor cruel Coleridge
lying in drugged stupor
vapored in technique
breathng Bibles
with a hard-skinned Chinaman around his
neck
trying to untell the story
trying to sell his barbaric
door-to-door rhetoric
to characters more ancient than Tin Isles?
Hello, how are you in yellow Xanadu?
Are you okay?
Are you today
who you are yesterday?
Your ancient forests...all lost, all
lost
to ringing and to
China....
all lost to China.
[E. A. Costa 18 November 2013]
[E. A. Costa 18 November 2013]
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