Thanks for reading and taking an interest, Max. I was less interested
in setting a scene or making a narrative as such, so much as the way
different events can collapse in moments of perception or perhaps
trauma - that thing of "millennial slippage" Bill Henson was talking
about in his visual art lecture last week. But perhaps it is too
obscure.
Best wishes
Conor
On 13/08/2010, at 10:41 AM, Max Richards <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> Conor, I find several enjoyable details here. I should have liked the
> boardroom link to be developed more.
>
> Best from Max in Melbourne
>
>
> On 13/08/10 9:35 AM, "Conor Adams" <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
>
>> Hello everyone
>>
>> Having been lurking for a while, I thought I would introduce myself
>> by
>> posting a poem. Feedback very welcome.
>>
>> For those who don't get the reference, Varus was a Roman general
>> who lost
>> three legions of soldiers in a terrible slaughter in the Tuetoberg
>> Forest
>> near the Rhine, in part because he was betrayed by the Romansied
>> German
>> prince Arminius.
>>
>> All the best
>>
>> Conor
>>
>>
>> Varus in the Boardroom
>>
>> * *
>>
>> Those are holes that were his eyes;
>>
>> no light escapes that gravity.
>>
>> Who was he yesterday? He can’t recall
>>
>> what name it was, what knife, what hooves
>>
>> murdered through his sleep.
>>
>>
>>
>> Deep in the forest of his genes
>>
>> he hears the vicious hail shredding leaves,
>>
>> the crash of trees, the sodden tramp of men.
>>
>> His numb ears catch
>>
>> the first faint cries of slaughter.
>>
>>
>>
>> *Arminius, my friend.* He grasps the table, dizzy.
>>
>> The light here is fluorescent, impersonal.
>>
>> He blinks and stares: the faces are the same.
>>
>> In their dark radiance he knows
>>
>> he is already worse than human:
>>
>> axe-meat, alien, dead.
>
> --
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