"Capitano"

By Paul Campanis

200 hundred bricks a day
He mixes sea water
clay dreams sand
His bricks will form rooms
over there in the village
His sea exploits
he pounds into the dough
he forms 200 times a day
His glance is furtive
The sea mistress kicks the shore
Do you remember the storm that....
Never penitent, never sad
The old sea captain is with his wife
Now he no longer rides her
But is put to dry her juices
on parched sand to make
walls for villagers
With slow dignity, he pours and
forms. The bricks dry and die
The captain forcefully
lives his fate with clear eye
A quivering nostril
smells the place
where sea captains go.
Proud, straight
Courageous
Capitano.


You know the world does not need reverence and holy stuff to talk about.
It needs connection of humans, the land ,dogs and cats. It came to me to
seek an answer to a vast question of philosophy. "How do you talk to a
dog?" I think the current software we have should answer me and then I
could go to Capitano with an answer or two about some metaphysical issue or
other. If you could talk to a dog you might ask about sexuality and whether
one really cares whether villagers live in walls or caves. They might be
better off in caves. It does not matter to the sea captain what he does.
As long as it is alone , as long as it is an act that is not destructive.
He could be squeezing oranges at Nedick's or peddling bananas in the North
End of Boston. If we learn to talk to dogs we could ask the bigger
questions but until that day comes we may marvel at the old ones in silence,
stroking the universe, then standing aside to assess their handiworks.