"you my friend have put too much thinking in your hearing
and all the skies are drying out.
let things get wet.
mud is good clothing.
if anything is wrong, ask yourself in ten years time
if you will have any new devices.
this is no different than small mall town America...
everything is made of symbols. Bergamo? this deck is missing
quite a few cards. the real lost card is the same as any other lost card.
things that remind us of other things are wrong.
things that make us forget others things are wrong.
things that make us remember other things
that make us forget other things that rob us of our time
and burn our lives in the furnace of commodities. Don't cry
about it, there are many many sheep in the fields of Treviglio
just as there are beautiful women with cellphones
full of unwanted messages. If the tax people audit me
it will be proof at last I have existed and made nothing from it.
Instead of my own nap
I have taken yours and stolen your dreams
which I know you yourself have acquired by impure means.
I should rather have used my mental acid
to have penetrated my own devious machines. No matter how many times you open the door
she is not there or at least she does not appear...no Santa Claus...
instead its Milano itself arriving on track 5
none of us ever have moved in the late afternoon lambent light
of patent leather shoes, prosciutto cotto
and the deglassing salt of the tracks
that sprays in our eyes"
december, 23, 2006
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