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Bridges Of Glass

I like it here

It's a clear cut
It's a work place
It's my own personal secular temple

I think

I work
with things
not many would grasp the benefit of;
something I began
almost sixty years ago

but I have all the time I need
to build a great, resounding clarity

I like it here

It's like a military service;
a straight, barren discipline:

a bed for the night;
a computer, a desk,
a microphone, recording machines, memory cards
for the day

and a couple of bicycles
for the shape of my body,
for my strength, my endurance,
and the diligence of my thoughts

plus a calendar for the passage of days

I close the door, and it is closed
I open the door, and it is open

The windows are transparent,
and it's either day or night outside,
or any of their manifold stages

I like it here
I like the routine
which bores straight into the core
of my elusive self,
elusiveness after elusiveness

or is it a great, palpable materiality
behind this veil of sonorities, voices, glances, murmurs
lost across these pages, thousands of them,
yes, years and decades
and bodies with familiar names attached?

I like it here,
I allow myself this,
in spite of the loneliness I cause
during a duration of unknown length

I like the hardcore determination
that my uncanny investigative cool reveals;
I like these notebooks stacked away;
now meeting the light of day
and my voice,
spelling out my written account
in someone's hand that was and wasn't mine

I like it here,
day after day
week upon week

I have found something
that is worth this long singular moment
of loneliness,
which is an honour I do myself;
a duty unto myself and all that I described,
outweighing the distance to someone,
to some ones,
that this formidable work demands,
no matter how long the completion
of this duty may take,
or where, if anywhere, it will take me

I like it here

I or it dwells at the bottom of all this,
and I have been allowed
to touch upon who or what I may find;

to look into the eyes of me,
which may well be the eyes of it,
and perhaps catch a glimpse,
silent as one thought that dissolves
into another

Clarities are cast between I and I;
bridges of glass and light

I like it here

Fri vers (Fri form) av Ingvar Loco Nordin VIP
Läst 6 gånger
Publicerad 2021-05-04 01:06

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