new zealand electronic poetry centre
  
 

 

 Capital of  the minimal
I a i n   L o n i e


from Flying Back


1               Rome 1965

‘The pines aren’t Respighi’s
but could be: the wind’s getting up
in light scuffles among the cones
on the fountain
water tautens like skin.
Clouds have no identity
photographs little and the wind
may serve as proof for the existence of nothing.
Nothing’s unique nor of a certain age
if not the music, and that only
so long as you choose to listen: it was
the transistors switching off one by one
made Saint Augustine afraid to die.’

These were the words your picture spoke
smiling from a terrace above
the Eternal City, your legs
made thin by love, your hair showing
which way the wind was blowing.
 

[TETP, McIndoe, 1986]



© The Estate of Iain Lonie 2004


 


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Last updated 11 July, 2004