Said the eagle
Sharp rocks, soft pains
*
Your hands shake
They are the mirror of your age
I saw them when the pencil fell
Soon they’ll go back to that childish time
Your mouth dripping and fingers
Unable to grasp
Even those so called tangible things
*
There’s no sound as neutral as the falling of a pencil
Already deafened the moment it happens
It seems so easy and yet something broke inside
The line can’t finish the circle
Just like your bones
When you dropped off the horse
*
The night was light as my concerns
Stars burning in your eyes
You had a thing, that thing of yours
That keeps on going even when the record button
Is not part of the game
Your eyes and lips said something your tongue denied
No one noticed anyway
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| Beuys - I Like America and America Likes Me |
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