The River
Today he wrote a river
its eddies wore strange marks
on a flowing page, boulders
semi-submerged like hymns
the banks were huge, the plains
went on for miles of words
oddly discernible, then not—
balanced an enormous sphere
that was empty of meaning
overseeing the asemic, but
not nothing, not nothing there
a peace, a better silence
we wrote it together.
on a flowing page, boulders
semi-submerged like hymns
the banks were huge, the plains
went on for miles of words
oddly discernible, then not—
balanced an enormous sphere
that was empty of meaning
overseeing the asemic, but
not nothing, not nothing there
a peace, a better silence
we wrote it together.
Drawing “Oggi ho scritto un fiume” by Enzo Patti (2021)