Venice’s Commemorative Monument to Bartolomeo Colleoni - 1488



The general glares downwards from his horse,

faithfully keeping watch over the mundane,

the tedious progression of centuries.

A sentinel, he had imagined himself—a noble,

intended to become immortal,

traveling ever forward in time,

defying the erasure of memory.



But time is the enemy of all things.

The pigeons and the rain could be tolerated;

time, however, has become relentless and unyielding.

It has eroded his heroic relevance,

he watches unblinking as his glorious benevolence

fades from all memory.

Generation after weary generation

manifests the ruinous decay of collective forgetfulness.

Tower in the bed

of sand, the unlit beacon --


of a happy time.

the fly carcass stuck
on wall ten years monument
to a life well lived

The Knitting Needles Museum
has a prudish name
that frightens the schoolchildren
and obscures the oppression
of desperate and ***** women

The torture museum
and the war museum also
lack the inspiration
from a muse
They are monuments

and should be called that
With the unbuilt museums
of destroyed art and
ancient cultures, they can
fill a street in any city

'Ecce ****', behold man
the noble beast, the master
of things and nothings -
virtual and vanished
worlds that are unlivable

the fly carcass stuck
on wall ten years monument
to a life will lived

Wisdom carved in stone
is lost / what we know we know
under an accumulation of moss

Nothing can be said from the lip of the sun,
To array with full redress the wind-flayed waters
Of the river-run and the naked broomrape of Spring,
Absolve naiads of their blued minstrelsy in venous scream,
Or pour a yellow songbird from the gold-rimmed cup of war.
Nothing is said in the liver-spotted ground of rain-ghosted gardens,
Where love’s monument is a blot of dried flowers and grayed thorns.

it took him two hours to
count the bills; would you
believe that?

hihihi

global network
brokers
state's attorneys
distributors
transnational trucking

not to mention the
containers

entrepreneurs like him
timeless my dear!

he descends from
a lineage of

cold-blooded
hawk-eyed
eager
men

quite brutish well but who
wouldn't fight for money?

you see?

moreover as far as
i'm concerned
we are talking about a well established
name here; engraved above monuments
nationwide

you mustn't worry
good people
clean reputations

don't look behind you
don't mind the reflection
don't try to feel the hole in
the back of your head

it's just your blood
it will be over

you have to die now

I am a monument
To your sins and despair
In the dark of the world
In dead leaves and cold air
I stand a gray statue
Caught in winter's snare

I am the eternal self
Bound to the Earth and dirt
My toes dig like roots
Green leaves form my skirt
Memories of far away times
Deliver winds of old hurt

I am an innocent child
A simple and tender age
Basking in warm sunlight
Awaiting the next stage
Blessed by green gardens
An untamed sage