ISSUE: Summer 2008
The Ark is a blooming branch.
The winds of evil play there,
launching it into the unknown
without a target.
The target is a broad path
that accepts nothing but steps
of the child journeying toward
the beginning. He draws
a transparent home in the sands.
Home is a man enclosed
in the chambers of the soul.
Multiplying day and night
in the organs of ignorance.
—Translated by Vivian Eden