The Wild Boar Inn
January 11, 2018
The streams buck like rams in a tent
whips crack and from the hills come the crookedly combed
shadows of the shepherds.
Black eggs and fools’ bells fall from the trees.
Thunder drums and kettle drums beat upon the ears of the donkeys.
Wings brush against flowers.
Fountains spring up in the eyes of the wild boar.
- Hans Arp, ‘Der Vogel Selbdritt’