By David Eide
From a distance it is a blackness
From a distance it is a rock
And here in the non-distance there is
We read everything through a desire
beauty coaxes a desire
sirens along the earth shore bring us up
Space, the fierce emptiness we always expected,
light, a space that burns a hole through the
rugged Andes Mountains.
A city, ancient and empty, stands mute
in the crevice of an old hand.
What goes into the center?
What fills the center up?
There's a little politics, a little love, and some
treachery and the mind comes out with something.
A man who talks.
The narrator that is the thrown out in desperation;
sent out among a litany of misdeeds and petty
heroism down in the dark it all makes.