Meditation: On Modern Deconstructionism
A stage for α κ ρ α σ ι α to hold truth’s trial,
By turning the screw: bound hands on a dial,
Raking the count, toll’d on grandfather clocks.
Macabre, kabuki masks their face of death.
Behind the Italianate shadowbox
Scenes. See shades of actors’, α ρ ε τ η at war. Or
Hear screams loosed on- exasperated breath-
As but whimpers. “The Horror! ”, “The Horror! ”
Still stalks streets of wrestles eyes. Dying mind’s
Images trill: Lines of a long dead song.
Somewhere midst the lyrics, fixity finds.
The Catharsis -seen through cigarette smoke-
Lingers: the last line of a one line joke.
Its refrain: “home is nowhere”. Sing along.
~Aaron Graham
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem