Roots

March 5, 2012

#26 Roots

My roots have dried and breathing
no longer seems easy. I’m sleeping in corners
of various eyes which forests mistake
for cunning lights, fireflies. The height makes
me forget your past; I’m not as high as you
think I should be. Remarkable, I remember
your jawline, my fingers closer to the edge.
My roots are fading beyond snow and further.

Slaves

#24 Slaves

She has her slaves. It’s a honey comb
affair where her streets are crowded, brown
with fallen trees. Some feed her oranges,
some stroke her hair, some take her clothes off.

She chooses her hour, her meal. Between
the comfort of the unclear lines near the horizon,
she walks past the fence towards anxiety.
Leftovers and pebbles, we gather away from
her eyes.

Perhaps situations

#25 Perhaps situations

I don’t have my cot to count the stars above
my imagination. I used to have my chamber
where I spun my thoughts aloud. Too many
interpreters and magic men ran me down;
I changed my lane, faster and acoustic. No one’s
interested to clean the chaos, to lick the fire
but when I give up, I will be questioned. I chew
my dreams; occasionally lift my head to catch
the sound of flying ants. I keep my fingers busy.

Remnants of a concert

#23 Remnants of a concert

There is nothing left in music, all notes
covered,
discovered,
rediscovered. Your summer
frock, it was begging for my arms. That’s
all I wanted, I thought and looked through
your silence. My clocks ran out of time,
I held you forever, you were certain of these
arms. Bridges burned and pages turned while
our moment, I don’t remember. I spend these
days in Kafi and nights in Dorian.

Envy

#22 Envy

Envy, I multiply with salad, they say
we all go green. Your lovers of various shapes
and sizes, pardon my willingness of playing
the clown, walk towards the river.
The morning washes them with light,
as they turn into glass objects, disappear
for months only to return on weekends,
almost summer.

Travel (2)

#21 Travel (2)

Come, I take you nowhere. It’s a lie
you should be aware of. There is nothing
uncanny in the way I change my smile.
That’s the trick, that’s why I prefer sleeveless.
Now, your mind is clear and you act more
and you think less. That’s when you travel,
closer than yesterday, closer than anybody.
Make way for predictions, they may come our way,
like planets out of control,
stars losing their shine,
eyes losing their gaze.
The world is bigger than your seat,
than your beat, what escaped you
is gone. You were always slower than time.

Travel (1)

March 4, 2012

#20 Travel (1)

There can’t be wishes as we are
left with no swans and the meadow we
dreamt of was not lush, was not green.
Dead foetus, dead skin, I can’t tell you
what I saw. I unspoke the knives between
my teeth and your wounds were healing,
as if the morning sun had touched you deep.
Thirst, I don’t bother, I know it is eternal,
shadows I’m afraid of. Seasons have always
been dry and winds declared burial before I was born.
Trumpets, they blow my ear and into the
eventual emptiness I travel.