i still remember my great-grandmother
talk about the second world war
and living on the front, where all
the fighting took place,
three days before she died i had a dream
with a clock-face pointing toward
three o'clock (whether a.m. or p.m.
i don't know), at the funeral,
after being taken from the little
church in one cemetery to another
where my great-grandfather was buried
on a bus with other mourners,
i remember the priest citing something
and bursting into a little laugh, not loud
enough to be looked at with scorn
by everyone, but loud enough for the
person sitting next to me to notice -
oh the futility of the priesthood at explaining
what Balzac would call the human comedy;
at the burial site, when the closest of kin
were given flowers and throw the flower
onto the coffin... i was told to do likewise...
and then they heard me perfectly enough
to scorn me, one word: NIE! (no!),
later i confessed i wasn't going to do a
guns 'n' roses november rain music video moment,
and what sort of tradition is it to throw
flowers into a darkened pit with a human being
reduced to being laid in a bulging matchstick?
i went with my cousin to get the wreaths,
offered him a cigarette, took the flower my
grand-parents' home, we sat their celebrating
the wake (stypa) - getting drunk and eating...
later that night i sat in the kitchen by candlelight
and managed to grind my teeth that i chiselled
off a piece of one... burning the flower just a little,
i don't remember what flower it was,
it was red though, and i burnt the flower just a
little, creating a purple patch on it.
i only remember my great-grandfather as a shade,
in retirement he was security guard in the
kindergarten, and i remember only one thing:
he played the big piano, and i played a small toy piano;
the shade figure of everyday grey;
and when he died, being only 4, i wasn't allowed
to go to the funeral, and so i stayed behind at home
and played with Lego with one of my uncle's friends.
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 7:21 AM UTC
i still remember my great-grandmother
talk about the second world war
and living on the front, where all
the fighting took place,
three days before she died i had a dream
with a clock-face pointing toward
three o'clock (whether a.m. or p.m.
i don't know), at the funeral,
after being taken from the little
church in one cemetery to another
where my great-grandfather was buried
on a bus with other mourners,
i remember the priest citing something
and bursting into a little laugh, not loud
enough to be looked at with scorn
by everyone, but loud enough for the
person sitting next to me to notice -
oh the futility of the priesthood at explaining
what Balzac would call the human comedy;
at the burial site, when the closest of kin
were given flowers and throw the flower
onto the coffin... i was told to do likewise...
and then they heard me perfectly enough
to scorn me, one word: NIE! (no!),
later i confessed i wasn't going to do a
guns 'n' roses november rain music video moment,
and what sort of tradition is it to throw
flowers into a darkened pit with a human being
reduced to being laid in a bulging matchstick?
i went with my cousin to get the wreaths,
offered him a cigarette, took the flower my
grand-parents' home, we sat their celebrating
the wake (stypa) - getting drunk and eating...
later that night i sat in the kitchen by candlelight
and managed to grind my teeth that i chiselled
off a piece of one... burning the flower just a little,
i don't remember what flower it was,
it was red though, and i burnt the flower just a
little, creating a purple patch on it.
i only remember my great-grandfather as a shade,
in retirement he was security guard in the
kindergarten, and i remember only one thing:
he played the big piano, and i played a small toy piano;
the shade figure of everyday grey;
and when he died, being only 4, i wasn't allowed
to go to the funeral, and so i stayed behind at home
and played with Lego with one of my uncle's friends.