Ossuary / Arco Felice / 1974
Sometimes the bone man clattered by, his horse-drawn wagon heaped high with the stripped remains of dismembered corpses, a cloud of flies in his wake. I would watch him from my perch on the hillside above the street, contemplating the wondrous creatures that could arise if only one possessed the imagination and ability to assemble and reflesh the various rib cages and skulls, the scraped and articulate bones and fragments stacked on the wooden bed. I never considered a destination, never thought to follow, but instead wandered elsewhere, down to the waterfront, or along Via Domitiana to Lago d’Averno, Hell’s entrance, not far, they said, from the River Styx.
Odd, I think, that I never once contemplated the various paths taken to bring that wagon before my eyes, to that very intersection, on those particular days. Nor did I wonder that it was drawn by muscle and sinew rather than engine, that its wares, while tarnished with dried blood, seemed curiously bereft of flesh and stench, and that its passage seemed unnoticed. Perhaps it was merely a parenthetical statement in the day’s phrasing, and I lacked the proper context with which to read it. Perhaps. But even at fifteen I knew that such sights were not long for my world.
Now, from this Texas hill, I listen to distant gunfire and wonder which bones will come my way, which offerings will appear at the roadside, what the dogs will bring. I have fifty-four years and much patience. The breezeway is lined with antlers. I wait, no destination in mind.
This prose piece was one of my first posts, and as very few have seen it, I thought I’d release it again.
Texas??????? Home? I’m from north of Houston. The Texan within gets excited when encountering a fellow Texan- homegrown or transplanted.
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Yes, indeed. Mostly Austin, tho we spend time in rural Medina County, too, on acreage at the tail-end of the hill country.
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I went to UTSA and lived and worshiped the medina river in Bandera. Small world! Here is a link to a poem I wrote about her- called “my serenity spot”. http://journeyinrhyme.wordpress.com/2014/01/21/my-serenity-spot/
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Good wishes from another Texan. Austin and Medina County are both familiar places for me.
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Wow! Stunning writing! Thank you for visiting my blog. 🙂
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Glad you approve. It had rested in a folder for quite some time, and it seemed time to release it.
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very nice. thanks for re-posting!
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Glad you like it, John. Thanks very much.
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Yes, thanks for re-posting. Beautiful, Robert!
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Thank you, Kelly.
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Very, very nice, Robert. Especially loved your ending lines.
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Thanks, Leonard. We could only wonder what the cattledog would bring in next…
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This is beautiful! I love the vividness of language. And the bone man is absolutely captivating.
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The bone man was interesting! And thank you for your kind words.
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You have always a way to amuse your readers here, Robert.
Absolutely stunning blog this one.
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Thanks, as always, Sherrie.
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Well worth repeating, especially as I am a more recent follower
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Thanks, Derrick. I may reblog a few others. So few people saw the early posts.
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Please do!!
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Okay, then. I will.
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I’m so glad you shared this! Wow! I’m reblogging. Oh, I’m a Texan, as well, raised in the panhandle. We live in Florida now, but Texas will always be home.
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It was my pleasure. And thank you for your kind words.
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Reblogged this on Praying for Eyebrowz and commented:
People, you MUST read this. Then check out more of this gentleman’s work at robertokaji.com.
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Thanks for reblogging!
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This is terrific writing. It really drew me into that world at that time. I’m glad you re-released it.
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I’m so pleased you find it so. Thank you.
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Glad you reposted– vivid piece!
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It felt good to capture a bit of that life.
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Robert, I see you and I have seen some things that are the same, but separated by a few years. Did you used to go to Chiesa del Gesu’ Nuovo and listen to Father Toto? Go to the third confessionary on the left and touch the skull? Did you slip away from the tour guides at the Cimiterio Fontanella to find that special Anime? If you did, remember your vows, amico mio. Upon the shores of Lago D’Averno and the eyes of Santa Lucia. Es uno segreto segrettissimo. Capisce?
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Grazie, fratello. I was more likely to slip away to the fish markets in downtown Naples, or mingle among the fruit vendors, or annoy clandestine lovers by shaking their fiats. Yes, I was one of those kids.
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Sounds like you were quite the scugnizzo! I was a bit older but found more than enough mischief in some of the more curious bookshops.
Well thanks for stirring up some dust-covered memories.
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Scugnizzo! Now that’s a term I haven’t heard in years. But yes, I was. Ha!
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Thank you for visiting my blog! I very much enjoyed reading yours.
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Likewise!
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Well worth the re-release – would have missed it otherwise! The poetry in the prose, and maybe the theme of matter reforming in those lines about assembling and refleshing? Many thanks.
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Thanks, Curtis. Some themes have followed me for decades!
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Your choice of language in this brief memoir is so sensory, so evocative. Distilled and powerful. I am shocked. Shocked, I tell you! 🙂
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I hope the shock wasn’t too great! Ha! Thanks, as always, Cate.
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Crack!!!! 👏🏽 This is phenomenal. So visually solid. I could see the whole story and felt like I was standing there watching from the hillside too. I’m glad you revived this and shared. 🌟😄
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I’m so pleased you like it! Thanks very much.
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