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Sunday, March 11, 2012

Ras Bir, 1976


Leave the town;
Not everyone can,
You need a camel,
Or a Land Rover,
(a real one),
And a driver
Who can infer
The road.
Take two spares,
We might be on
The moon's face,
Behind you,
Djibouti,
Ahead,
Rock,
Scrub,
A kind of
Desert.
To be lost,
To be stuck,
Is perhaps,
To die.
Why go?
To see the light;
Light houses
Call us.
It sits alone,
They all do,
This one watches
The Gate of Tears,
Flash-flash it says,
Then it rests,
Then flash-flash,
It works alone,
Its mates
Are ships,
Someday, perhaps,
There will be,
A real road.
For now,
The track is
Half imagined,
And the place?
Unchanged,
Unchanging,
As if we,
Had never come.


Djibouti, French Territory of The Afars and Issas (FTAI)

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