Symphony of Kaleidoscopes

2013,



 



I



 



on a dizzy morning in june




my eyes were rubbed against the view



       of that piazza




you should see those kaleidoscopes



- even as a child of ten




i could never take my eyes off of them-



for the very first time, as if in a dream



       i saw the reality;



my beard grown out,



and my voice cracking,



and seeing




words could be tender



no matter what



 



i was thinking of those desks




those school desks dangling in my mind



       as like question marks




in those school days still capturing my mind



and to those dangerous questions




we used to raise our hands




under the shadow of the rotten stringers




so many unanswered questions has left



a couple thousands of us




trying to explain




the close range between innocence and rage:



rage is cruel without innocence




innocence is submission



       without rage, said a man




(on his eyebrows there was blood and sand)



 



on that morning




we had already burnt down the desks



our kaleidoscopes were in pieces



 



no rust left on the stringer



no lies in our words



 



II



 



the day was booming.



colosseum tumbling down



       for the very first time



the earth was seen as it was:



the surface split in two,




two different orchestras, earth in polyphony,



one telling us kurt huber’s dead




the other playing shostakovic, the 7th symphony!



 



On that very day




just like a dissident string



       breaking loose from a violin



the city broke loose



       from the earth.