02 Oct 1985, Posted by Scott An Chora in Travelogue, 0 Comments

10/02 Venice, Italy

I finished last night’s joint out on the balcony and then spent about an hour watching the taxis jockey for position and transport the masses from place to place.  A unique perspective on canal life.  I passed a few dollars into the hands of a boat owner who showed me around the channels.  I figured that was a good first step to accustom myself to the island.  I traced the labyrinths of narrow streets and waterways and watched gargoyles pass under arches where the king of ghosts and shadows once danced.   (more…)

02 Oct 1985, Posted by Scott An Chora in Poetry, 0 Comments

Poem 066 Disrobed down to a child

Disrobed down to a child, I’ve dreamt outside the gate, no feathers for this head I lay, no pride, nor fear, nor hate,
the world is my home, yet, I’m so alone, imprisoned by the wait

Far inside the day has risen, deep inside echo’s a cry, as if a silent voice from heaven,
was seeking out, this place I lie

I stood beside the table, for a scrap to fill my plate, then melted into the night alone, no pride, nor fear, nor hate,
the world is my home, yet, I’m so alone, imprisoned by the wait

Far behind the day has ended, in the breath of another day,
with a withered body & tired feet, I seek out, a place to lay

The world is my home, yet, I’m so alone, imprisoned by the wait