not that it was twilight
for it was dawn in Venice
but still he would not sail
for that fair landscape
I insisted I wanted to find
such destinations are a biography
call it Venice
call it Greece
or, more accurately yet, call it Ithaca
even so
absolved and blessed as I am
it is not enough
the justice of the stone refuses my plea
I am one of many pilgrims
Aqua, aqua,
I drown and I thirst
the stone's weight is cold and hard in my pocket
yet there are landscapes I have loved
in my human way,
there are outlines I yield to,
destinations I mark in my agenda
as achieved or failed
and I love these failures the most!
so what do you say to that?
Shall we call this dawn dreaming
of no more substance than a wish
or moves upon a board of Go?
Call it what you will
it is twilight but I still call it fair
In spite of his rejection
I still have faith in the boatman
