Filled with voices without substance

 

Filled with voices without substance, as
manifestations of the saying: History’s
hollow language
as an infamous tool
to carve an unrepeatable verb

Just an assembly of abandonment
around the minimal: a bonfire,
a bottle of liquor, some cigarettes, enough
to pretend to fill the silence
charged with meanings that go back and forth
among the faces inscribed by the
reflection of flames and looks: so provisional
as they are: arriving unceasingly
to the body
from the body

Mere adaptations of a double helix of sameness,
eager to cling to the illusion
of particularity:

scarcely the casing of a code, its means
to play
the perpetuation: without knowing
why, just
spinning

cosmos without expansion
inertia of who knows what chance
or conjecture or conspiracy of Riemann.

 

© Marcelo Wio