I open the window. Airrushes in, dust, noise, you. A desert wind nestlesin my mouth.A plaintive vowel.A clusterof syllables rollinglike tumbleweeds.Is windthe only languageyou speak? What do you want from me, Muse?Today all I hearis Greek, your presenceponderouslike the ancient ruinshaunted by the shadows of poets.Like that abandonedcity I dreamed about as a childbefore you tookme from me.Obstinate columnswiveling upward intoa burning dome,are youmy funeral obelisk? You placedevery word I kno...
