The Abduction of Crystalized Ginger,
image by Daniel Y. Harris
Benares dreaming
Magicians
perform in the streets downtown
howler
monkeys proclaim the nearness of the markets
whatever
we ask for we are given
the
river at night is an artery of incense.
We
follow the crowds but are never part of them
sometimes
they follow us
we
deflect their questions with mantras from physics like the laws of light
it
seems to satisfy or at least confirm our strangeness
we
are offered crystalized ginger & glasses of sweet tea.
Time
passes
nothing
is given freely anymore
the
rudeness of refusal makes it clear we must pay our own way in future
we
have few skills that can be used here.
We
finally find work doing something others will not touch.
At
night we keep the river fragrant
with
ashes from the burning ghats.
seppuku
Robert
Rauschenberg erased a
de
Kooning nude to demonstrate
all
art is transitory—except,
of
course, for the resultant
Rauschenberg.
In the light
of
that action, is self-erasure
an
illusion of grandeur or an
attempt
at digital re-mastering?
Embolism
Not
waiting for what comes
through.
Making a reservation
to
be present at the opening
of
the next exciting episode.
Someone's
life. Not even that.
Hologram.
Not even. Phantasm
in
the corner of the window
where
the cobwebs are. What-
ever
stops the afterwards
from
getting through the
coating
on your tongue to where
the
tastebuds grow. Birds ring
the
changes. Summer. Snow.
—Mark
Young
Mark
Young's recent e-book, The Holy Sonnets
unDonne, is downloadable from the Red Ceilings Press.
