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


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