Looked
at from mountain tops and history books
cities spread and flame,
crowds
oppose crowds and beget crowds.
Nothing distinguishes man, woman, son or daughter
though sometimes on scaffold or balcony appears
a tiny criminal or legislator
above
processions as featureless as the water. In
a room a man sits pondering a debt he cannot pay.
A small boy plays with bricks
beside the man's feet.
Nearby a woman mends a shirt, smoking a cigarette.
A clock ticks. A cat sleeps by the fire.
There is noise of brawling from
the street. Crowds
thrive and decay on the disastrous horizon.
History forms and breaks like
.............................clouds
there, repetitive and sublime.
Near at hand disaster is faced, absorbed and
passed on
one moment and one life at a time. |