Herons


Could I be immortal
Here at the end of the world
Like the gardens of the desert
Like the cannons and the drum
I will laugh forever
With this disease of the rich
The diseases of the poets
The diseases of the pre-christians
What will we talk about?
Here in this alien town
Will we be innocent or break great oaths?
I will throw stones at the effigies
watch destiny unfurl
Like the mythical flower of extinction
Can we dance on my axis?
Spinning until we eclipse
Burning in the shadows
This town cannot last forever
The water trickles away
Beneath its own little landslide
And we think of the small Spaniard's mouth
Herons fly over swamp and tree
There is no place for my disease
This demon that digs at my skeleton
The angel that twists within my brain
Silent death will embrace me, fearless
Brutus I will talk with you
I will ask of your century and my own
I will talk of orchards and wine
All the time forgetting Cicero
I believe in something, in memory
I believe in the stars but not in constellations
I get solace from gardens and birds
From stories unwritten merely told
All I need is you
Your memory
Smothered beneath my pillow
Burning with my fever

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