Invisible Cities, Redux
Italo Calvino has invisible cities and I recommend
and finding extraterrestrial versions of Venice?
I go out in the early morning rain in Galway, Ireland,
and tap the cobblestones with my white stick.
Immediately I get lost.
On my left there is a river.
On my right there is a window shutter making a kind of
“Songs of the Earth,” I think.
I am not unique.
I stand beneath the shutter and weep.
I am alone in a new city.
if I died here beside the river and the window maybe everything I’ve known would make sense in the gray of an Irish minute.
“Good-bye to the peregrine falcons,” I think.
Good-bye to the glass of water that contains a single daylily.
Farewell to Mahler on the radio late at night.
Don’t get me wrong.
I get lost in cities every week.
I have learned much by following, blindly, the whims of architects.