![\"\"](\"https:\/\/www.poetamatusel.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2010\/12\/rat-for-title-page-v-2.jpg\" "\\"GOD'S")
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GOD’S RAT<\/strong><\/p>\n \n “Fattig som en kirkerotte”<\/em> *<\/p>\n Not so poor as a church mouse, <\/p>\n * Danish: Poor as a church mouse<\/em>)<\/p>\n UNWILLING AWAKING FROM FINLAND<\/strong><\/p>\n To All Those Who Were There<\/em><\/p>\n Departure was sadder than expected. Departure, much sadder than expected. Yes, departure was almost like a EVAPORATIVE EVANESCENCE<\/strong><\/p>\n On mornings like this one, HELSINKI, THROUGH THE BLIND VENETIAN<\/strong><\/p>\n To Mirja L.<\/em><\/p>\n We visit cathedrals of granite and silence. Worshippers wonder at importune appearances. The northern lights – revontulet<\/em> – obliging, RECOGNAISSANCE FLIGHT<\/strong><\/p>\n At five-to-one a.m. the geese are landing noisily. OF DOORS<\/strong><\/p>\n \u201cToo little \/\u00a0has been said\u00a0\/ of the door …\u201d<\/em> Charles, I’m quite in agreement with you: Yet it is, after all, through doors Doors are meant to keep out the wind, Worst of all – shutting – they shatter <\/p>\n \n Copyright \u00a9 2010-2013 Guido Comin – Belluno, Italy. All rights reserved.<\/span><\/p>\n .<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" GOD’S RAT “Fattig som en kirkerotte” * Not so poor as a church mouse, though possessing not one house. Rather richer than most men, for he can give more than them. In fact, well-contented, fat, like the best cathedral rat, now starts bargaining with God. Gets away with your salvation, in return for… […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-783","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.poetamatusel.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/783","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.poetamatusel.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.poetamatusel.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.poetamatusel.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.poetamatusel.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=783"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.poetamatusel.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/783\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":7746,"href":"https:\/\/www.poetamatusel.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/783\/revisions\/7746"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.poetamatusel.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=783"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nthough possessing not one house.
\nRather richer than most men,
\nfor he can give more<\/em> than them.
\nIn fact, well-contented, fat,
\nlike the best cathedral rat,
\nnow starts bargaining with God.
\nGets away with your salvation,
\nin return for… cancellation!<\/p>\n
\n
\n <\/p>\n
\nWe had only been together for days:
\nyet the stillness of the landscapes,
\nthe silence of the snow, the dormant
\ncreeks of ice, the trees like phantom
\narmies, the fires-of-the-fox<\/em> that lit
\nthe skies one night… made us listen
\nfor a change in our weary hearts. <\/p>\n
\nNow having to return to another world,
\nas if reluctantly awaking from a dream,
\ntrying to postpone the actual lifting
\nof eyelids that were happier elsewhere.
\nAnd now the only remedy are memories,
\nof a joke, someone’s laughter, a smile,
\nof a sentence that struck a deep chord.<\/p>\n
\ndeath…<\/p>\n
\n
\n <\/p>\n
\nI long to come and drink,
\nfrom lips that are not mine,
\nthe morning dew, and then
\n– myself a dew by now –
\nin tepid morning rays,
\nto slowly waft away… <\/p>\n
\n
\n <\/p>\n
\nIcebreakers, compliant, display all their might.
\nUnlikely a hospital that saw your son’s birth.
\nMajestic buildings imported from times far away,
\nother countries, perhaps from another dimensions. <\/p>\n
\nOn the snowy steps, afterwards, a lingering smell
\nof incense, of other cathedrals and snows.
\nToo early a jazz club, deserted, your absent friend
\nwho plays in the band, a chain we have to replace. <\/p>\n
\nrepeat their encore performance, in the private
\nskies of your house. (You must have arranged it…)<\/em>
\nHave I been dreaming, sleep-walking, or glancing
\n– blind – through the blind? <\/p>\n
\n
\n <\/p>\n
\nTrying to imagine who is lulling you<\/em> to sleep,
\nI feel I should be awake and watching over you.
\nThen I fly over, furtively, skimming the North Sea
\nwith icy feathers, avoiding detection by the enemy.
\nFinding that West Jutland sleeps tranquil in the snows,
\na swift return to base, my mission well accomplished. <\/p>\n
\n
\n <\/p>\n
\nCharles Tomlinson, “The Door”<\/em> <\/p>\n
\nnot enough has been said about doors,
\nand even much less has been written. <\/p>\n
\nthat we come and go every day;
\nwe continually arrive and depart;
\nin’n’out<\/em>, on’n’off<\/em>, Enter<\/em> and Exeunt<\/em>. <\/p>\n
\nand keep in our quiet and peace;
\nto keep out the raging of hurricanes,
\nand keep in our restless souls. <\/p>\n
\nour weary hearts into smithereens! <\/p>\n
\n
\n <\/p>\n