If the Language of Art is an Encounter with an Unfinished Event and is Itself Part of this Event
Perhaps December’s daylessness is not the end
of hunger. Still,
what is the difference between light and no
light? The body and no body? If the future is temporary
refuge. If the existence of narrative means
no one belongs to memory anymore. In the dark
dark rain, not even the fragment shows
To trust in the visible world when the fragment has meaning
only in relation to others
means I’m afraid of all I have left
to forget. Through the window,
light like a grey horse falls where you once were.
Who cares for you now? Who alive might know
how small, how futile
a life is, what the light is capable of without anybody to interrupt it.