osonos VIII - a poem

[Rhett Hudson/Chris Weaver]

OSONOS VIII - LAMENT OF THE HOME-BOUND

...there exists a catalogue about his work titled "friedrich kiesler.
inside the endless house".
i´ll show it if you want at osonos.
florian

When you find your place in the circle
we will be brushing our teeth.

When you look around at each face
we will button our children's jackets.

When your stories are told in French, in Russian,
we will write on the chalkboard in front of our students.

When you bid a new companion goodnight,
we will open our lunchbox.

When you drink coffee together,
we will turn in our sleep.

When your translators' markers sing on the posters,
we will dream a path through the forest.

When you walk the rooms of the endless house,
We will sweep the dust across the threshold.

When your butterflies gaze across the Wannsee,
We will rise and gaze across the lake.

When your dead moose materializes,
We will pay our bills with furrowed brow.

When your computers sing with reports,
We will sit in our cars in traffic.

When your words carve and shape ideas,
We will chop wood in the backyard.

When you sleep again with bright words dancing on the water,
We will search our computer screens for your words.

When you make palaces and leather shoes and flying machines,
We will tinker underneath our trucks.

When you open your hearts,
We will sit at our mother's bedside.

When you close your circle,
We will search the night sky for your meteor.

And when you are finished,
We will feel the waves
that ripple out from you
They will rise and lift us
salty and warm
ancient and brand new
and carry us all into the new season
of open space.


Chris Weaver


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