Saturday, February 21, 2009

Fancy Fancy That

Cirebon Jawa Barat leapt across the sideways, his head squished between his legs. As quick as he appeared he disappeared, never to be seen again. People like Cirebon Jawa Barat appeared once, never to be seen or heard from a second time. People appear and disappear, reappear and appear, disappear then reappear as someone, something else, never to reappear, appear or disappear again. Cirebon Jawa Barat was such a one. Never before or again will Cirebon Jawa Barat leaping leap across the sideways; never ever never. Why, you might query, need I tell you this? Because things that happen once never to happen again, a second time, a third, the better the chance of getting it right, or wrong, the first time. So query not, time anneals all alls. Such is the music of life, such as it is, life.

As if from out of nowhere a man in a tight fitting bowler levered across the sidle ways, the sky blushing blue bluer blue. ‘…stop that levering, cad…’ said the man beside the lamppost lingering, ‘…else I will have no other choice than to haul you in…’. Levering he went, one step ahead of the lingering man. ‘…I said stop, stop that nonsense, cad, stop I say, stop…’. As he had nowhere further or else to go, easing up he fell in pace with the lingering man, who was so beside himself he cast a shadow on the two of them. ‘…fancy that…’ said the now stopped levering man, ‘…fancy, fancy that…’. Out of the curb of his eye the lingering man saw a man scuttling approaching, his feet scuffing the top of the blacktop. ‘…I say you, cad, stop…’. As the scuttling approaching man paid no little heed, the lingerer swung his fist into the air, saying, loudly, trumpeting ‘…away the both of you, I’ve had quite enough of your larking…’. This happened but once, never to happen again, never ever never.

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"Poetry is the short-circuiting of meaning between words, the impetuous regeneration of primordial myth". Bruno Schulz

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