From One Into Another

"I, man of sadness," wrote Georges Chastellain,

the 15th Century chronicler , "born in an eclipse

of darkness and thick fogs of lamentation."
 

The language of birds, and medieval stars, the language of anti-matter and that of mythologies between caresses, like translucent membranes, all aroused and glowing, the language of lucid arrivals and departures, the language of flesh and bones becoming phantom shadows in otherwise shadowless places, and the language of dreams through dreamless mouths… in those telescopic fountains made alarming and yet, sweet as honey, the warm summer nights were shaped on the lathe of heavenly bodies swimming in the fog of hunting tigers.  It is the sound that dreaming makes when it turns the earth, burns the air ahead of itself, and sends messages very fast through the light…

There are marvelous weapons everywhere, and sometimes they can be seen.

J. Karl Bogartte