Читать книгу The Glass Constellation - Arthur Sze - Страница 66

piranhas

in a wine-dark river.

a radio station on antarctica sends messages

to outer space,

listens to quasars pulsing in the spiral nebula of andromeda.

a banker goes for a drive

in a red mercedes,

smokes black russian sobranie from england.

the sun

rides a red appaloosa to the gold mountains in the west;

then, incognito, shows up in questa:

wearing shades, carrying a geiger counter, and

prospecting for plutonium.

the history of the world

is in a museum in albania;

the price of admission is one dollar.

a kgb agent

has located trotsky’s corpse,

and, under the guise of a gardener, enters his house

and breaks open his casket, and

shatters his cranium with an ice pick.

lepers

in a cathedral are staring up at the rose window.

o window of light:

we are falling

into a bottomless lake full of piranhas—

the piranhas, luminous, opalescent,

in the black water.

o paris, venice, moscow, buenos aires, saigon, kuala lumpur:

we are sailing up the wine-dark

river.