Interpretation by Greg Baysans

Poet X, Home



Bridges ("Ponts")

Overhead, the grey of crystal. A maze of bridges -- these straight, those round, others falling at odd angles into the foreground. Reflections flicker endlessly down the lit tunnels of the canals, sure but shaky such that the shores, crowded with structures, collapse and shatter. A few bridges echo the homeless who lived there. Some display sticks, guideposts, weak balconies. Minor chords cross the blear and disappear; cords rise from the banks. You note a red vest among willy-nilly get-ups and the instruments of a musician. Top ten, a snatch of classical gas, the left-over part of the national anthem? The water is grey and blue, and deep as an ocean inlet. A streak of white from heaven above anhialates the joke. 


One Why ("A Une Reason")

Your finger strikes a tambourine which erases all sound and starts a unique harmony. 

Your next step has been earned by early hominid man and his marching on. 

You stick your head in, unique lover; you stick your head out, unique lover. 

"Turn your life around, use protease inhibitors, start again from scratch," babies chant on your behalf. "It doesn't matter what you fill your bank with or lust after," they seem to pray. 

On the threshhold of eternal life, who can say which everywheres you will. 

by Greg Baysans