by Gunnar Trakk

I want to go, to fall, to thrust it from me,
The negative peripatetic fingers, stirring
Each long-ceased possibility, like an eye
That seeks to seal, and judge; to gut, to sever.
Decomposition in these things lives;
And I, or only always nothing. I,
Who know only unknowing

Crying child I cry
To the less devoured:
With, without,
Within, without,
Proceed.
Forward, upwards, sideways, circling,
Circling, backwards, onwards, back:
Proceed.
These good lies guided me.
Remember them in tranquillity. Remember
With horror. Judge me, cross superiors
Who will, like Caesar, historicities
All smudge and canker;
Who will nothing.

No more of that, no more of now and then.
Of when and as, of if, seizures of if;
For the rain is beating on the windows
And I have let itself cry openly,
Stations that cry openly;
Saying to myself that there is no defense,
That there is no forgiveness, saying
Thank you. Thank you dear mademoiselle. Thank you kind sir.
Eye that seeks to seal, to judge, to sever,
Within, without;
Thank you.
Proceed.
Proceed.