A Journal of Thoughts from Last Week
The O in Oh
Osnabrück’s Bocksturm “Witch’s” Tower
There are places in this city that draw my eyes downward to the smooth-worn cobblestones, to broken feet and courageous eyes, to the shifts in colour by the ancient towers, to ribbons of silk in the hot blue sky, and there is a high pitched twist in the air at the river where wild flowers grow as might only be seen in alpine meadows, there is deafness in the cathedral’s wooden beams, there is blindness in honour’s last sad shreds. My thoughts have little mercy for those who celebrate the thousands of Osnabrück, and yet I am always drawn to return here. I am a silent moth to the lick of its flame.
So many ashes
Her portrait, the last witch burnt
Plain. Happy. Alive
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