Colour is hardly a diversion here. The transparent light
Does not play under the old bricks. We’ll forget the columns, for
What is so close to you is like carrying without arms, breathing
Without lungs. On and off bridges, water that clings salty
To your clothes. Here dialogue is a one-sided age-old
Image. Thus we float on in wine and glasses.
The Nonexistent Spaces
We were the ships, we were built, we departed
How to fill a space that has been lost, has sunk
There is a language that cannot be suppressed: may I adopt
The wind blows through you hair, columns hide the years
Nifty Matron, with sensuous hair and breast, the gondola will
The way through is the space of dogs sniffing marble
Colour is hardly a diversion here. The transparent light
The nonexistent spaces in the Arsenale! The swaying columns
How to fill a space that has been lost, has sunk
There is a language that cannot be suppressed: may I adopt
The wind blows through you hair, columns hide the years
Nifty Matron, with sensuous hair and breast, the gondola will
The way through is the space of dogs sniffing marble
Colour is hardly a diversion here. The transparent light
The nonexistent spaces in the Arsenale! The swaying columns