26 5 / 2012
To speak of the smell and feel
of books, the erotics of the text,
has begun to sound perverse
One by one, the old places of worship
churches, bookstores, Nature herself
become quaint and are vacated
In their stead a gleaming, ambitious screen
part shuttered window, part distorting mirror
full of wandering, restless spirits
Like so many ghosts in limbo -"
free of the tyranny of bodies,
yet aching for their phantom limbs.
– Yahia Lababidi, “Shuttered Windows” (via berfrois)