Begins and ends

by David Vikgren


Begins and ends

At night, awake, or dreaming, I sit

unrecognizable in the dim kitchen seeing heavy freighters rush through

rolling tunnels of snow. At times when I no longer find the peace to

listen to the night-radio, reading Woland, Josef K, or Pyret,

the obituaries, I imagine endless wastelands and

inhospitable passages that miles of power-line wires

run through. Humming with cold they sound into the past, like a

long-distance truck at the roadside arrested where the cargo makes a familiar

noise between terminals, living and dead. The highway split a

dark horizon. The ability of the gaze to embrace

is the limitation. The distance begins and ends in me.

© David Vikgren