Who will open the vault of trophies,
when elephants vanish like dust in a vacuum cleaner
Who will tell the drama of open air theatres.
Who will travel the labyrinths, seeking the
mushrooms in lost Chinese gardens?
Who can climb the tree branches,
to the castle where you can never arrive.
Who can trek the sixty straight miles to solitude,
traversing the thread-thin lanes between hope and despair?
Remember the relics of ice, the voice
of the forest, how bare, groaning in winter.
Remember the spring of black squirrels, truly naughty,
mightily triumphant. Remember the summer of
fluxus, of drunken honey bees, a surprise telephone call
from California. Remember the abundant wind
and red and gold, the nostalgia of autumn.
This poem is a reaction to Elena Carmagani's exibition "Machina Anamnesica at Akademie Schloss Solitude. My take-off point: Anamnesis- to study the memory of a place through its relationship to time.
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