Archive for the 'rooms of memory' Category

Room 99

August 29, 2011

Room 99 was a womb.

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Room 98

August 25, 2011

they threw us in a van
and drive drive drive brought us to what
they called the room: number
was ninetyeight but there were
no houses around there:
it was just a dirty garage
among some abandon’d
factories; a clay neighborhood –
and there they kept us those
four days where we accused our friends
(and enemies as well)
families and acquaintances
of every suggested
and imaginabile offence.

Room 97

August 19, 2011

That one was a classroom,
first floor, fourth door,
one plastic signbearer
which should hold a
paper that read 1-B,
but held instead
the face of some Wolfsburg
defender; and
at Morgen the hallway
a bath of light
and I wished i could just
go straight, become
the light ‒ but I’d have reached
the baths instead,
reign of the bigs, a place
of cigarettes
‘chwas wise to avoid.

Room 96

July 31, 2011

Room 96
one huge, cracked, calf-shaped clay idol
from where
our essence evaporated.

Room 95

July 22, 2011

It was nice to wake up
late every day
and not one thought
one shadow of guilt;
’twas nice to leave it a
mess and find it fixed,
to sleep a sleep
where nightmares were fat
and good dreams dress’d in gold.

Room 94

July 12, 2011

Down the hall, under the dim light of the gas lamp, I could see them talking. They were walking towards me and father’s face was pale, blotting paper pale, and he stopped and said something in mother’s ear, and she looked at me and shook her head. My mother is a –

Room 93

July 9, 2011

the place was mostly white,
no night at night – no darkness, I mean
postcards on the white walls
Bronzino Schiele a Lempicka woman
plus a picture of Dalí with Alice Cooper
some mornings I woke up and she was gone
and I could feel like I could breath
and in the white I could not see
any shadow of the dead

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