samuel sacher

A poem from "New poems"

here by the river
Indos keeps his junk
rusty indescribables

I collect kittens
and foreign countries
while he collects scrap iron

and so and thus
we travel
he and I
each of us to his own side
of his own world

for instance, this cramp iron
was once by one
for instance, Joe
hammered down into an oak beam
with the best intentions of
a man – the builder
to last

Indos feels it – knows it
and keeps it as a relic
of an unknown and unnamed patron saint
of so-called little people
to whom he's grateful to be alive and to be artist
and upon whom no books - monographs are written

I have thus collected
books about far away places
and they would
especially in summer
get completely out of control
and would fly around my head
like flies around the chandelier
until I got crazy

but now I switched to young birds and kittens
while Indos still drags in levers

I say I collect kittens
but in fact I collect myself around the city
in kittens

wooly creatures
with innocent ears
they just need space
in nobody's way
warm enough
(an old sweater would do)
and they would snooze and purr