FRAGMENTS

1. Specimen

Even dead, it retains the attitude of flight

not a thought in its tiny head

How odd death’s not dimmed these feathers’ azure

as if still crossing fields, or mountains like palaces of glass

It would not choose

to abandon the sweet musks of autumn, the murmurs of creeks

or let you stuff its body with cotton

When its song stopped it entered eternity

2. Invention

Each invention makes us look like Superman:

bullets kill the beasts we fear,

binoculars unveil the private, timeless flirtations of men and women

as we lurk in the dark like jungle warriors

If each invention minimizes our position

don’t we live better

minting coins that buy less

crossing oceans our ancestors never could

3. Sincere Advice

An unshaven tough guy is not necessarily evil

A trim and tidy little fellow not necessarily kind

No need to be the fairest princess on the planet

Your smiling father might be more vulgar than celebrity gossip

yet a headsman may love deeply his son and daughter

Rationalists might entertain fantasies

but if chasing the soul is one trap for the irrational

ignoring it is no small error

4. Calculation

a. A village has only one chair—how so?

b. Five pianos played simultaneously by one man—impossible?

c. Leaves imitate leaves, countlessly.

d. Too many people see others as hostile but march toward the same grave.

e. From me to you means from one to many.

f. One heart is not limited to one man.

g. Two seeing each from afar only see the other.

h. You can’t walk in four directions at once.

5. Reading Death

Each book, each story, I foresee a death

as if I myself must die

No needless characters, no pointless paths

In some alley or room, a coffin awaits,

rain or lamplight foretelling

Death’s certainty compels me

toward the end I anticipate: how I grow

ruthless and strong, merely to survive it