Mediocrity

December 30, 2011

#17 Mediocrity

Ordinary me. We were never special.

An outsider trying to build bricks and

wasting hours. No monuments,

no cathedral halls. If there is an end,

I can’t choose it either.

Let the lights fall freely, canopy of

memories, I own no corner.

Rivers afraid to cross my vision

we never make it to the safe.

I lose my sword, my books lost

in the water.

MindTravel

December 27, 2011

#16 MindTravel

Into the smoke, closer to the periphery,

the horizon, increasingly sleep

surrounding like fences, my defenses

gave way to a pavement of your thoughts.

Slide in, slide out.

I dot myself alone in the fading of the sun,

a sclera of red and orange. Your hair blowing

in the silence of the rural roads.

I was no longer ...

Anchor

December 19, 2011

#15 Anchor

Insipid. These days which promise night

but dry liquor all over the barrels of time.

In different longitudes these hours

of silence as my fingers type your

tender. From half sleeves to sweaters,

counting was no easy. The system fails

but reminds us of our only way to establish.

To hold on.

Distance and its spread

December 18, 2011

#14 Distance and its spread

In ashes and stardust they found my flute,

I thought I caught your eye.

Ghostwinds, you know the tune,

of every sharp and flat I choose, just

feathers above your spine. Soaked in

spotlight, every note belongs to you.

Waves at my feet, I find myself in small rooms

of silence as our distance spreads like

rumour into thousand ears and milestones.

Luminous

#13 Luminous

I held her soft as if my hands were luminous,

she bled light. I kept her on my palm and

she rhymed with every season. Marks, we shared,

rooms of comfort for years to remind me of

the prophet of embrace.

Curtains

#12 Curtains

Circles around midnight, the birds are

all sleeping. Crumbs on my linen as the

window kept watching. Smoke in my attic,

we know how we’re living.

What if? (2)

December 17, 2011

#11 What if? (2)

What if sunglasses for tears

in endless gods of winter, you looked away?

I can find myself in recycle bins

of machines and of memories, clumsy,

still narrow on the pencil, margin of

disguise. Wheels that carry you,

reverse my thought bubbles.

Fish me my equations, none of these

are tallying. You tell me highways and

dish me out alleys where every month

my footsteps keep getting back at me.