HEART IN THE GLASS

that man took a horse out of you
head, hooves, tail
the speed of the beast
its strength

that same man took an elephant out of you
the size of the animal
the intelligence, memory, madness
have you ever seen a mad elephant?

that man took a whole caravan out of you
the goods: Silk, spices, precious stones
the men, beasts of burden, the dogs and the road
the clients, the business deals

that man took the Blue Mountains range out of you
secret caves, rivers, red trouts, water dragons and master of Tao
how?
the master of Tao himself didn't know

that man took your picture on the beach
and the beach, and the sea, and what's beyond the horizon
took the world, took your nails, took your atoms out of you
you wonder, is there anything left of you?

yes, my friend, there is
boom boom, boom boom
you can hear it
your heart in the glass

::: ::: :::

Picture: You are not drinking alone

THE LAST POLICE OFFICER ON EARTH

they planned another
big demonstration for tomorrow
like there was one already, on June 4

rightful, angry people will be shouting words
"FREEDOM!
FIGHT 'TILL THE END!
SERJH MUST LEAVE!"
and they'll be naming the usual bandits and crooks,
and they'll be walking around the city,
and they'll be raising their fists,
inviting passersby to join them

and they'll be cops by the hundreds
and it'll be hot,
and I'll go take a look,
and sigh

of course
nothing will happen
because nothing can happen

there will be a real revolution
not before twenty years after the last police officer on Earth
will have resigned from their job

::: ::: :::

[Picture: The path by reading_is_dangerous] (June 4, 2008)

BROKEN STONE

he doesn’t do a thing these days
so there is correspondingly nothing to write about

he’s waiting for his Russian visa
he’s waiting

meanwhile he reads the news
a bomb here, a bomb there

that’s nothing to write about, unless you’ve been there
running away from the storm

death must come like a stone-breaking storm

the wind caressing your cheeks
you sense there is something in the air

today’s a sunny day
and I am just about to go out for my six o’clock beer

::: ::: :::

Picture: A wonderful place for birds 

(May 2008) 

Just a thought: I made a lot of blurry pictures, and wrote many a blurry poem..

Poem revisited on August 28, 2012

THE SNAKEMAN

this was there:
somewhere on Earth

somebody told me to take this tire
to some other place
and so I did

I was many-legged;
the road had two faces

one face was black sand
like an old Jewish doctor
digging for pain
and gold, and diamonds, and coltan,
his voice was good: “Take this tire to…”

the other face was that of a Snakeman
he had but one tooth

the Snakeman he jumped at me
and bit me on the chest—
here, look at this wound,
the tooth is still stuck,
it’s that tear in my heart.

the pain comes at night
a chest pain
terrifying
it’s like I’m going to die
and I try to shake it off
until it goes away

you see! I don’t have much time left
but I still have to push this tire...
all the way to...
to...?

::: ::: :::

[Picture: June 2008 by reading_is_dangerous] In Rutshuru, there was no easy way for me to move around the town safely, so I took the habit of sitting in front of the gates of the house where I was staying. There was a road with many passersby and trucks, and much dust, but little else. The "wooden bike" is a common sight. They say it can be used to carry a load of up to 300-500 pounds. On a flat road or up hill, you wouldn't like to push one, but going downhill an able driver will jump on it, and then it's a free ride... Coltan is the colloquial African name for columbite-tantalite, a metallic ore used to produce the tantalum used in consumer electronics products such as cell phones, DVD players, and computers. Export of coltan has been blamed for fuelling war in the Congo. (This bit, adapted from the Wik page on coltan.)

THE BEAUTIFUL COINCIDENCE

YESTERDAY I began to work on the background
of a fictitious character
for this new story of mine
which I am writing in French

HE was to be the descendant of a French officer
who had been captured by the Russians
when Bonaparte ignominiously
retreated from Moscow, in 1812

you see, I have been reading Tolstoy's
WAR AND PEACE
and I watched the magnificent, Soviet-made,
1968 film adaptation of that great story

well, it's been a week since
the weather here has been extremely hot
and this morning the fridge's electric cable
just BURNED

so the old repairman came by with his tool box
he changed the cable in no time
then (for no obvious reason)
he told me the story of his family

"It all started with Napoleon,"
he said,
his great, great, great grand-father
was this French general
who had been captured by the Russians
when Bonaparte ignominiously
retreated from Moscow, in 1812

later the Frenchman
was deported to Tbilisi,
in Georgia
where he married an Armenian girl

and some two hundred years later
one of his descendants
was this old Armenian repairman
who charged me $6 for his trouble.

::: ::: :::

Picture: Winds 

Seen in Yerevan, a few days ago.

Slight editing made on August 28, 2012

K-R-K-

sometimes my writing doesn’t go well
especially in English
which I still find difficult to master
because of all the little words
that cast so many doubts in my poor mind

and there is no one for me to ask
at four in the morning
if I should put a that here
or a which

a witch!

then there is this problem
that when I am reading it becomes harder
for me to hear my own genuine thoughts

if they exist at all, I mean
the genuine thoughts

in Rutshuru where I stayed with the doctors
there were many books rotting in a corner
of the living room
where it was all about beer
and watching African football on an old TV set

you should take a look at them books,
thought I
and so I did, and that explains
why I haven’t been able to write much
ever since, because
among the rotting books, there I found
a century old translation of Tolstoy’s War and Peace

the great book!

I cleaned it of all the mold and stuff
that lived on it,
and took it with me: my new friend

and I read and I read and I read
the amazing thoughts of that amazing man

::: ::: :::

[Picture: Keereeku on his favorite sofa by reading_is_dangerous] Perhaps the name of the dog was Kureeko or some other variation on k-r-k-; I don't remember so well, although it's only been a month since I left the North Kivu. There a dog is a rare sight. People told me that the locals eat them or that they just don't like dogs or that they can't feed them. Whatever. Keereeku lived in that house, with the French doctors, and it was impossible to convince him to leave the place. One troubled day, the doctors left the town, and when they came back a month later the dog was still there, albeit half-dead, because of hunger. They say he's crazy and doesn't want to play, but I've seen otherwise, and he's really a good creature. His favorite sofa is located right across the room, facing that corner where I found Tolstoy's extraordinary writings.

PORK OF HORSE OF DAMSEL OF PANG OF PIE

yur joei vljk, Tap
pork of horse of damsel of pang of pie

on a faraway planet, in a special cell, an unfortunate space traveler
is dying from lack of oxygen

and as he searches for his breath
he mutters these words:
“Pork of horse of damsel of pang of pie”

Please, God! Let them hit the keys!
They hit the keys

sssssssss oxygen returns to the room
where they keep him, their prisoner

eeeeeeee breathing again the space man says:
Yur joei vljk, Tap
which means: “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

they ask the prisoner about the meaning of these words:
“Pork of horse of damsel of pang of pie”

now the unfortunate space traveler has a big, big problem

::: ::: :::

Picture: Corn selling girl by reading_is_dangerous

CONSEQUENTLY

do not search for meaning
but for the absence of meaning
or seek not

::: ::: :::

Picture: Consequently by reading_is_dangerous

MOVING AROUND

it's two US dollars to travel on top of a truck
from Rutshuru to Goma

it's thirty dollars for a two rooms apartment
in Goma; for two weeks

it's fifty dollars for a girl,
the whole night

it's a hundred and twenty dollars
for a watchman, the month

it's $40 for the wooden mask,
made locally, smiling

it's $15 for a meal at Doga, steak
French fries, avocado (two hours wait)

it's one dollar a day for a worker in the field
under the killing sun

it's $15,000 or more for the medical drugs
required to treat somebody with multiresistant tuberculosis

::: ::: :::

[Picture: The dust of you by reading_is_dangerous] (On the road to Rutshuru, June 2008)

THE BOAT OF ME

nobody ever stole any land from me
or took my bed
or burned my garden
or ordered me to leave my own life

in the eyes of a woman I've met
I saw everything
all what I couldn't give her
and the boat of me, about to sink

::: ::: :::

Picture : Seven what 

-In Nyanzale, June 2008

Edits made on August 28, 2012

SUGAR CANE

from the ground
through the feet
to the eyes, until me

the directions say:
"You came out of the world,
reaching for me."



::: ::: :::

[Picture: The feet by reading_is_dangerous]

VIRGINS OF WEIGHT

Virgins of weight
Nervously sit in their quarters of meat
Eating the floor, chewing, eating,
Until they fall down, into the Land Of Always Heavy
Where even the single photon
Burdens your spirits
And beats your back, the arms
Of the Queen of Always Heavy wield the Father Blade
Since the End of men
When the males' reproductive feathers turned into planets

Banana planets
Cry under a sun of worms
In your belly, my child, the itch
Shall forever be with you, in your fingers
And the galactic snakes from the dream of your mother
Will bite on the light, the heavy photons
Shall feed your reptilian hunger, the cold
Until the Supreme Digestion
Has rendered the light light
And your spirit free



::: ::: :::

[Picture: The Queen of Always Heavy by reading_is_dangerous] (On the road to Rutshuru, June 2008)