Evora, and
the Temple of
Diane, which was built by the Romans, still
stands today, unmoved, drawn into something like sleep—yet it has its victorious
past. Roman engineers, built this
immoral or almost immoral temple, perhaps dreamed how to place ever stone,
giving a new shape to the air, and when they approached it I’m pretty certain
the people breathed sparingly, some with a hush, others with a whisper. Today,
in the fall of my life, or perhaps more towards winter, the steps are now
crumbling, perhaps in a generation, a handful of grains, in a another hundred
years or more, no more than a melted down hill of sand, but today, today I
climbed those steps without falling off its rundown edges, or its wide-brimmed
rim, around its platform. It was impatient to write this to you, because I do
not want to waste time.
#3890 (4-30-2013)
