THE BRIDGE
Indeed, the halves of the hour are strange; especially for
those who are asleep
and have lost count of time; and more so for those who
are awake and count. The half hours maintain that
vague half that seeks its supplement and are conscious
of being half; and they’re conscious of the vague
other half, in the previous or the after, always in
the beyond and the outside;
strange, indeed are the half hours — they’re a suspended
perhaps loud 1 ½, 2 ½, 3 1/2 . Perhaps, and a perhaps
that sounds like a slash in the wholeness of time,
a sensitive, metallic pulse; a vibration like the thin blade
of a stiletto thrust in the middle of a bull’s forehead
like that sharp knife which whizzing through the dark
void is nailed in a closed door.
Manolis Aligizakis 