Category Archives: Caravaggio’s Dagger

Colonists of Colour

Posted on 23 April 2013 by

Caravaggio’s Dagger, 1:2 . Many came; many wait. Few chose To remain. The sudden transmigrations Stall in a malnourishment of sand At borders abrupt and far from water: Definitions devoid of stability, Fragments forced unexploded Into the land. In the … Continue reading →

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Touring with Charles

Posted on 11 April 2013 by

Caravaggio’s Dagger, 3.3 Kenya, 1989 For Charles Kibiru Muraguri, in the hope he still lives, up-country Having polished the exculpatory fool’s gold Of diplomacy and migratory academics, My wife and I leave behind the embassies And the consulates and their … Continue reading →

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Gondolier

Posted on 9 March 2013 by

Caravaggio’s Dagger, 6:12 The idyl breaks as Venetian glass under the heavy rain, The idolatry of the ideal broken as the intestines of a night White with wakening, slivered by indigestible shards Transparent to the hands laved with the inundations … Continue reading →

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The Answer is in Africa

Posted on 9 March 2013 by

Caravaggio’s Dagger, 6:10 . Wer meines Speeres / Spitze fürchtet / durchschreite das Feuer nie! He who fears my spear-point shall never pass through the fire. — Wotan, Die Walküre, Act III ‘ Abdalla sells essences of perfume by the … Continue reading →

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Rivière-des-Prairies vue de l’Oasis de Laval

Posted on 9 March 2013 by

Caravaggio’s Dagger, 3.11 le 22 décembre 1993 À mon éternellement bien-aimée amie de grâce, Cécile (1916-2004) Casta Diva … a noi volgi il bel sembiante Chaste déesse … tournez vers nous votre visage si belle — Bellini, Norma, Act I, … Continue reading →

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Ordinary Radiance

Posted on 19 February 2013 by

Caravaggio’s Dagger, 6:13 … but I shall see The winged vengeance overtake such children. — Gloucester, King Lear, III.vii.65 A distance almost too far from the armoured personnel carrier And his companions, the soldier walks along the earthen roadway. He … Continue reading →

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Hejira

Posted on 2 January 2013 by

Caravaggio`s Dagger, 4:6 . Mein lieber Freund, The emperor’s ballroom is filled with dancers, Eighteenth-century Vienna brimming aaaaaaaawith allegrettos, The harpist plucking melodies aaaaaaaaAbove the violins. Mon cher ami, The mystery of Damascus hangs aaaaaaaaLike a song in the dry … Continue reading →

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