Wednesday, June 23, 2010



There’s no god
but god

who asks us to erase
all those words

But I was made to speak
and to walk along

the great flows of people
to be seen as a stranger

even to be invisible
while tram-bells ring their warning

There is an old church
and there are fancy facades

and the people keep flowing
on foot or bike

so that each body is in danger
of becoming an obstacle to itself

missing the words to ask with
Tongues pressed so expectantly

to their palates
produce no consonant


Rembrandt’s Staalmeesters
look up in surprise

They haven’t yet heard the question
on the lips of the intruders

hundreds of whom interrupt them daily
Each visitor has a new way of looking at them

and a different tongue
to discuss this puzzle

But the masters are masters
for a reason

Time does not soften their tones
The man in the middle is standing

and seems to say At last you’re here
Please come in

But when he stood where I stand
and looked at himself in paint

he was puzzled and said No
This is not the way we were to look

And who was that visitor?
How could he ever leave such company?

Grant Duncan 8.6.10