:. from (XVIII. in the society of brothers)

how the horizon stretches, how it clears up
with lights, buckets of torches
how it nightens.
I hear a crackling of laurel bands
and of steps, I hear the pawing of steps
that stomp and grow
as of decision made, across the public, abdominal
square they get pulsed, the steps urge by shifts and more –
how are pumping now my heart’s ventricles
I feel
It is decided but not explicit
it cannot flow:

«We are almost there… you ready?»
«If I had the script maybe yes, but like that, now…»
«Maybe it only takes a whistle, a recall…»
«… not sure this is the one…»
«Lean against me…»

Water is our mirror. In the society of brothers
it is the fear that makes the charity. That makes everything tight in chorus to the other
in the scared brotherhood, in the remedy,
father:
I am from the olive-tree,
I double
and the roots warp against the trunk

andI cripple.
Oh thou – have pity.

…

«You ready?»

Here one must smash, one must
miss completely
reality.

…

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