I can’t come at it from silence because ownership is myth, property is myth, borders are myth, as is body. We believe body harder than the others, but it’s myth without reason, despite organization. To come at it from silence would be to see clearly from inside a clear room, devoid of air, color, or tactile redundancy. To see clearly from silence is to move in a river, sit as a storm, wait as a mountain. No borders, no property, no myth but wind, laughing in your morning hands.
An Italian-American Spaceman Foresees His Death:
Smashing against ashen walls, alone in space,/
Weirdly wired, mind warping/
Through the void, veering over/
The vapid edge of madness, mumbling aloud,/
"Per aspera ad astra, you young asshole./
It’s a rough road to the stars, Rotando."