Too Little Seen

Too little seen in the corner
of an eye
Wasps drowsy fighting death
I’m thinking of a man
performing an adult stride
over soft wide lawns
I’m thinking of hypnosis, of cities
mesmerized by bliss, talking
mouths in the trees while legs
walk on their own in immaculate streets
In another city
a crumpled tower
Mumbling work going on
day and night
The rumble a threatening
shade over running backs
This fear is stranger
than Magritte’s pipe
On the face of a man
wildly staring
mouth gaping
someone writes:
>Iowa City, 2001
Translated by author