full-circle around the frozen moldau not feeling the cold were they

gold or chestnut or a stage between gold and chestnut or maybe a honeygold

lighter the glacial moldau but here the waters are liquefied through the windows

of club mánes klub výtvarných umělců mánes teals bickering over leftovers

with gulls that one there grabs the prey with his spatula beak and dashes off

dizzily paddling ingurgiating the bite harassed by a greedy gang of

gulls circling not feeling the cold full-circle around and full-circle again aux yeux

d'or and face shaved by the cold but the old dictator fell from his

giant plinth now an empty pit like a hole from a missing tooth huge mass like

a mammoth tooth pulled out and stalin konnte keinen twist tanzen

black humor in the gray evening while at the viola or the barbarin a vision

of dante's paradise i said rodin and he knew what i was talking about

the statues on the karlsbrücke in dialogue with the congonhas churchyard statues

prophets and saints who knows chatting discreetly about the weather dummes geschwätz

a baroque pablum of idle chatter scattered across time but in a kavárna you can

drink a mokka ohne wasser der härr ober composed like a wax figurine

repeated and repeating itself in the wax the waiter in a waiter's pose and at the

vinárna at the wineglass tavern you can drink a fiery slivovitz and chat in

four languages and from elsewhere on wenzelsplatz die pragerin wenzelnflaneurs

scharwenzelnflaming on wenceslas square and who who is who who is how whois where who

is what to stop life the life that flows into networks of capillaries that is in the air

that hisses over manholes on top of the sewers that burns blue as a gas flame alive

in the round voice of the young girl who guards the jewish cemetery amid stones and stones

stones inlaid on stones when a scintillating life the voice of life buzzes on the

inverted commas of dry bushes who's who for no solutions but new conditions

for solutions this yes for as to miracles there are none there is no parallel paradise

life does not flow in equal ripples it gushes out through gaps it pours out from cracks

explodes through invisible fissures and if not one can be made then a thousand

a thousand drawings filed in drawers and folders reads to burst out like a

waterfall in a contained wrath of water boring out defenestrating through a thousand burrows

of a stone bulldog-dike now that the social thing is settled is the beginning of

the condition-for not a solution and kruschev knows less about art than my

grand-mère and drinking a sip of wine and feeling life the vivifying

irrigation of the capillaries or life breaking all norms like a root

bursting out an enclave of stone and preferring it like this for in the tarot deck of life

your card is solidaire not solitaire in solidarity and paradise is not artificial

but also not parallel the rhythm of things is disparate discordant

unmeasured this you can write in your book of limits and unlimits

of routes and uprootings of plumbings and unplumbings in this book you align and

misalign like the tarot deck of life glass beads and eyes that color i've never seen

that selfsame color bei gott lieber gott i've never seen before melancolors

a cat staring intently while we pretended and finally in the finely the veritable

halfworld purple yellow-and/or-ashgray-and/or-purple c'est affreux peering out