“I am here now, looking at the fields laying afar, and there is an ancient sound that I obliquely recognize. I try to name it, in every thought. I try to put this feeling, the awareness of this presence, to a place in space-time. It has to be somewhere there.
Nothing exists outside of the arrow of time.”
“But in Kent, the known past and the unknown future do not exist.
The asymmetry of time does not apply.
Like the salamander whose birth and death is the same, bound to the flame, Kent is free from the limitations of human time.”
Like the moon that searched for an axis
I have not rested for years and years
And lately it feels like all my life, I have been on the road
till I reach the Azimuth
An infant, for the first time, with bright eyes
seeing the other side
The more they made, the farther we went
To escape the asphalt and the concrete
Men’s hunger to build things in despicable forms
An endless hunger for destitute things
And the more they made, the more I wanted destruction
Some days I would dream the whole city in flames
Like a fumbling prayer
That made my blood boil
Blood moon rises over the horizon
Tunes of some ancient past
The whole city behind us collapses
We break time
Now there are only fields
Of Gold and green and endless hills
Lay afar like veils of a bride, dying
We speak words of wisdom
Hours and hours
In every tongue
But when it comes it silences us
There is a time in the continuum of all coincidences,
a point of fracture,
a windowspane,
a threshold of migrating souls
where the tide begins to turn,
the winds swirl and lean backwards,
a shadow lifts from Kent
It turns the eye to afar
I will wait for you there
Rushing water
The empress
Live me in the abyss to become untrodden
Kent started in the west, on a rolling surf in the birth channel
It went to the east, tossing on the knots of fishermen’s tails
Kent came to being on the moss and the reef
It had a lonesome heart, like any wise being
Kent was a maroon on a thousand-year wait
For the return of a love that has been lost
Thousand-year-old sighs echo through me
It breathes through rivers sinking beneath its soil
And when Kent gathers its skirts I wait,
Like an orphan
Kent is an ancient old landlock
With its soul’s half, banished to the sea
“In June 2022, researchers reported in Physical Review Letters finding that salamanders were demonstrating counter-intuitive responses to the arrow of time in how their eyes perceived different stimuli.”
And in a year at a time unknown
A baby was born, hairless, whose name was Salamander
He who dwelled in fire
Though his cold blood he was the humblest
He burned and became as the world around him turned
Careless
Over and over
Like a Phoenix he came out of the fire
And when they came to hunt him, he hid in the fire
At night he crawled into people’s livers
Flowed through their emotions
He had a special urge for those with a fiery temperament
But he could never steer his own concourse
So he burned, over and over, until the end of time
like Kent
Never to perish and die
fin
POEMS BY NIGHT 