Tuesday, July 19, 2016

The tiny movies of the heart

Tiny movies.
Captured movements from the day
the horses        day smells
sounds nothing like the now
with its jacking hammers and scream of traffic
why are we so stressed and despairing?
I won't ask myself, or them.

A shiny horse
moves into view, a horse
almost supernatural
in its beauty
in its stillness
in its oblivion
in its centrality to their existence
not just a car but a beloved beast
cared for
not by oil changes
but a curry comb
and gentle words
I can hear it whuffing and whickering
and responding
and smell its superb
glossy hide
it is animate
and capable of relationship
it is not just a dull means
of transportation

People file and hustle and hurry
off a train or boat
all their faces are different
as faces are always different
but faces were different then
each person's demeanor their own
anxious faces
bored faces
tired faces
one woman is skipping
a man adjusts his hat
(or does he tip it to the camera?)
most are businesslike
but give the appearance
of going home

A smooth skim along a beach, carriages sailing across the view 
as the camera tracks, perhaps on wheels
some people vaguely aware that someone is cranking a thing at them
do they know what it is?
Those moving pictures.
Imagine me in a moving picture!
and all those horses just standing, standing patiently
it must be very hard to stand so patiently
waiting for what?
Are these cabs for the rich? 
A man twirls his umbrella as he walks with his woman
everybody's making love or else
expecting rain

Think how long all these people are dead.
Think of their descendents.
Think of them begetting them
and birthing them.
It's crazy and frightening
to think of this moment
of sand and smells
and sea creatures dead for more than a century
but their descendents still gasping for their existence
in a sea now foul and choked
that heavenly vista
likely gone for good

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