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| View from the hotel balcony 56 x 42 cm mixed media on paper |
WANDERVÖGEL
A green
alpine
river slipping
slowly past
a poetry
slam with panama hats, so many things
plunging:
cigar smoke, palm shadows, the
highest of
necklines, dancing
followed by
a banquet with all the “trimmings,”
something
allegedly Austrian
done to
veal—a great flattening out
of meat, bread
crumbs
its skin—dumplings
dumped on plates
the size of
man hole covers,
boats of
sauce steaming on oceans of white cloth.
After the
climb we reach a hut
where an iodine-stained
chamber
maid blows
on our blisters
with the
delicate hesitation of an April wind.
In the
higher altitudes cows are still fed
thick
salads of purest lucerne. It’s an economic
thing and magical
properties and protein
says the
guide, or History’s pain (plan), or something
because
travel is educational. It might be obscure,
it might be
incomprehensible, but you get a suntan
& free
cocktail once a day. If you change that channel
who will
ever fathom
the hay
stack and the panama hat leaning
against it
or soft trumpet call of tropical
nights under
clusters of alpine stars, the disbelieving river
as seen
from these equatorial heights?
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