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Judson Evans

Arsenale

They needed someone illiterate to copy out the secret files letter by inscrutable letter. The roughed out hulls of voices in the fog, floated and fitted out among spider webs. Witch-hazel twigs rigged like spinnakers. Imperfect cursive of fireworks reflected in a mirror without even crossing the bridge with the rosined bow. Drastic carvings of damp sound cantilevered over the cages, parabolas, ellipses, Piranesian inventions… Too drunk to remember where the two guards in their regalia carried me ashore…

journal left on the boat
the haiku return
to their stream