The View Of The Town, August,2008
Throughout two weeks – I had you on my back –
weighty with your statue – I would drag
you up and down in blocks of flats
of capital. You went all into fragments
across the streets – into the minor pebbles,
into the people – sheltered randomly
around. I drag you in the cellophanes –
for kids - the pills and cotton, melting gums
and candies – with the feeling as if I
fed trunks of tanks.
I don’t remember what way I returned
to you, inside the forehead
the clock was knocking –
The yellow bus was mined
with people of my kind –
It drove us and it tried
to get away from us. And on the road -
The smell of burning pines –
The earth much blacker than the earth –
Was like religious ritual -
The spirit of the place – in smoke.
We took you off – being guarded for two weeks
while crucified on statue of the one –
who guarded them for century.
We covered everything what disappeared
and what remained untouched - with Gori - fortress,
We did return to our selves as the deminers.
The words are also to be cleared of mines.
A poem is as cruel at this minute
As a teddy of a child –
Screened with the wide shot – among your ruins.