Lights in the West

 

I have no wish now to write about Egypt, in general,

but I do feel fully justified in mentioning what I have learned about the Nile

by accurate investigation in many quarters. It clearly has its source on Mount Atlas...

toward the west, close to the ocean itself, and it towers above all other mountains,

for which reason the poets have called it the pillar of the sky

(Dio's History of Rome)

 

This world is a natural place. It is a streetcorner

where boy meets girl, the bed of experience,

a garden of dreams. Foundation under their ideals.

Under lampposts under whose flickering lights

their eyes they find meaning in an imperceptible nod

toward agreement. I will come with you. Yes.

Have never seen one alive;

One'll take a lamb, it's said,

at night from its sheep mother's side.

That quick; In my headlights

there he is now, flat and fried

onto asphalt midway 'cross the lane.

Me? I'm passing through;

Do you live here?

Live--What do you mean?

What does anyone mean?

In a motel, off the highway,

in the middle of the desert,

Lovers exchange cigarettes.

Then they blow smoke. Their eyes reflect

The neon tips of their cigarettes.

The eyes are windows. This too is a place

where truckers at first light leave for long hauls

over mountains, into cities,

fast toward the suburbs

of flawless wives and their pedestrian children.

Everyone is going someplace.

("8 Eastern, 9 Central, Tuesday,

Stay tuned for Wild

Life Tonight:

Elephants eat under baobab trees.

The elephants eat the baobab trees.

They wait to be shredded.

They are going nowhere."

Flickering cathode-ray

pulls into a tight

sphincter of light--

now, go to bed, kids.

Things to do all day.)

Hotel etiquette, lucid martinis

before bedtime.

Luminescence bounces off sequins.

She waits at the bar.

Got a light?

Me? I'm passing through;

Do you live here?

Waterland killer orca circles

to entertain tourists

who kill time. Brooding night

Comes and their young depart

for the streetlamps and wait.

Coyotes in the desert

Mourning a loss. I have heard

their nightcry in my own bed.

I witnessed their reasons

for lament under shifting stars on a clear night

when highbeams miles of emptiness reflect

in radiant eyes startled

by oncoming death. I have been to that place.

Been. But I'm back.

But I have no wish,

now, to write of it, in general.

Put out that cigarette.

Come back to bed.

What are you reading?

Both of them wait for me

and call me to them.

 

Wherever you've been,

It's there that you are.

Me? I'm passing through.

Big deal.

Just passing through to where I've been.

 

(In Dio's time the sun rose in our West and set upon the East;

the earth moved perfect concentric in reverse without an axis tilt

'til Nemesis passed (its orbit, jubilee). This too again shall pass.

Then all the people of the earth will rise and walk to take

new homes, to claim new lands; the Babel will be great

in that last century before the next we call the "first".

 

There are two ways of knowing everything. Two ways at least.

There's black or white, truth or dream, the way it was and is.)

 

--John Horvath

 

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