Fragments
[homage à György Kurtág, February 2026]
1
Some . times . we pause . and dispel while words shed their ragged guise
while words outlast their quivering.
We prepare the way /the way for silence Let it resound!
2
Next time I went in, the flowers had faded from faded to wilted. I resolved not to look at /look at them /at them again. But again, passing through, an unfocused glimpse. Today, eyes mostly shut, eyes moistly shut, I emptied the jug and disposed of the water and all
3
By the time . we resurface
there will be /will be a reprise /be a reprise
Afghan blades
| The women know their pace, making an ancient gesture, little finger along the blade, sliding onion and pepper into the pan, the perfect held moment between planting and feeding, transfer of chemistry, everflow of garden and table, the action just clean, its purpose, time and meaning.
|
Above in the mountains, the fighters seek to force the pace, stirring shadows in shallow caves in the tense dense vista, sharpened minds plotting ends and closure. They count bullets with deadpan hands, pursuing justice or vengeance or both. One wipes his blade, its studded hilt, keening some cold conclusion. |
poems by Kevin Armor Harris