Weather fields / blurred edges Poem by Hendrik Jackson

I

travellings so many lights, iron doors, above us cassiopeia involuntary
reflexes blur the snapshot of the moment (shadow walls standing) -
the pulse of traffic lights switching, a letter in your side pocket you ran
lost your way in the fog, sudden panic driving you: in the city's current

(streaming rain) - tirednesses flooding over, a detail shifting
its frame of reference, the whole range all around ripped open, consequence of
currents of air crashing into each other. in the café the reflection of a jubilant image
(lightning fields) - the indistinct fear of being among survivors


II

rain running down the facades, a black curtain drawn
aside, rivulets, beneath metal signs it washed
fragments of images away, bubbling sounds in the jungle of the city (stage set)
yet weather-shattered. an insect fell into the street light, there was a crack

then the whole street scene with sky (the city no longer existing)
soiled, unceasingly unmoved putting distance between (from far away) resentment
grey veil, only recognisable in photos, i could see your look
going straight past me. later on you picked up the trail


III

... empty burning (i shaved the mountains) ice on the window: crystallisations
tracks of black silhouettes - and abandoned the lights, the chains
of them threading among the rows of houses, the never-changing dampened sounds
where the border with darkness was - in the avenue then the pain

seemed dulled. you got hit by it. it was infectious, a thought, faster
than thought - but it was too much for us ... (unsteady murmuring) snow-white
horizon behind the chimney (shadows) - crows, and all as though thrown out
- annoying rubbish. barometer indicating rain no marking for miracles

translated by Catherine Hales