Temporarily Untitled I long for the element that tastes and smells exotic even for Arabs, For an ideal peace, more peaceful than anyone’s. The joke lies in the idea that it isn’t a quest for someone representative of such qualities, Nor it is subject to impeccable critique of historians. It might start with what I and my fellow musician have presumably perceived all our lives; That day breaking and night falling do not play a classic role of dancing; Dancing on the cacophony of motion and is never to be influenced – except for the polar circle, But the need for them to disappear must occur arbitrarily, like poems – except for Shakespeare’s. It must also vanish from the minds of Arabs and historians, who live in the polar circle or elsewhere, Historians shall never seek the element, for they know better, They know the end must occur quietly in each brain cell that produces atrocious verse, It has to happen quietly and abruptly.
Posted on: Thu, 08 Aug 2013 04:35:56 +0000
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