/ feeding a throng of sparrows sweet buns, pinch by pinch, to their avaracious beaks...
trying to fend away the more imposing
schwarzmönche auf die himmel!
the kafkas! and the inland venturers of coastline stock...
the viking gulls (as i like to call them)...
oh urban sparrow, O urban sparrow, and your tender throng, perching jittery on a tree, then scouting down to a cold ukranian cement for mere crumbs!
not too long ago a homeless dog (a rare phenomenon in eastern europe) once approached me in the mongolian square of the same theatre -
namely, warszawski dworzec zachodni
(warsaw's western station) -
/ tears: cronica's interpretation of herr mannelig /
as just beside the palace of culture in central warsaw -
being approached by a homeless man - asking for food, first asking him if he wanted a cigarette -
surprised by the question - replying: have the cigarette,
and yes, i made this sandwitch not too long ago -
with him, moments later, in the corner of my eye -
taking a **** (literally) on the lawn beneath the hunchback shadow of the palace of culture...
in the toe numbing yet thrilling cold of poland's late March...
surely there can be nothing satisfying when once you could feed the trafalgar sq. congregation of pigeons...
feeding sparrows? while watching ukranians load and unload themselves from coaches
at warsaw's western station?
that's another matter...
their flickering - amber like - nervous twitching, hyper-sensitivity -
i will never understand a man's shame to encompass crying -
like i will never understand the worth of a psychiatrist:
having sampled the tertiary use of language (i.e. by body) on a canvas of a *******:
why would crying ever be considered shameful, when done so authentically by a man experiencing beauty?!
sure... the over-simplification of a woman's crocodile petting... or those ******* 21st pansies that are football ballerinas!
it's such... a mental release! it's like the sudden break into a crescendo on anathema's song release...
you can take the church from the state and keep an irrelevant church-state vatican...
but the subliminal joy of lament, within the confines of the heat-music complex?
mozart didn't even know what he was laughing about as depicted in amadeus... it's not a pity craving, cramp...
there is subliminal joy in allowing what is too "erroneous" in it also being a river...
p.s.
mind you, what is the fifth element? you can make a funeral within earth... you can make a funeral within fire, you can make a funeral within water... can't exactly make a funeral within air - since that would just be decay... and mourning rites - and since time forgotten lightning has not been deemed an element... sorry michael faraday...
then you can certainly make a funeral in vacuum -
like that marylin manson song, an astronaut drifting through space...
ah ****...
those ****** sparrows; gets me ever time i listen to some new music; previously not on my music palette.