appearing in corners, the image enlarges and I see my lovers from the past

looming over me bodies of thought

carries the tide

and the sand

….turn around and look at me so I can tell you the story…

doesn’t move because it is mutant freeze

no one clutches it and nothing grows on it almost a Martian venue

If we could move backward we could see why and pick up some valuable relics from the base material

present stable conditions

like unfinished thoughts

are caught in the wheel

flawed and eternally perfect we awe at nature

summer rolls over and we applaud

perhaps

we

should be

angry

since we are so hot

dry

and empty in this sauna

we are helpless creatures

victims of our world….

sting some times in a winter we wish

to make the world go

down side up

and have some June.

some bird that fly north to sing

and other to peck

Make

it sun

we say

shine

me

now

Music climbs out of its hovel

released like perfume

and fire ignites in dust.

.

Few words are spoken

like remnants of last week,

a presence that lulls.

the clouds cover the sky

high and low

yet all the hours continue until daybreak.

I mentally repeat the presence of dead souls

listening to old sounds and anticipating travelled movements

but the spirits are so quiet

non-spoken, that I am left bitter,  awaiting.

.

I put on my old clothes

that appear ill-fitting discolored

I don’t recognise myself

and my name is odd.

I console my empty hours

smiling for them but they sit heavily in my chair staring at me

all morning as I seek afternoon.

Wires are strung around a terrace fence

only birds are in view

I avoid the street of confusion

searching old books and sounds to define.

The familiar heart beat penetrates tradition and guides me.

.

The remnants of old souls still surround me.

Infinite smiles passed me before I learned to smile. 

Solitude, my guest,

spoke a foreign language.

I stroked his head

fingers through hair

I wrote him letters

and spread myself before him in surrender.

I wanted to obey the truth

but I just avoided it

and my solitude grew

in depth along my house

into which children peered

until they fell asleep

never to awaken

uttering oaths to their dreams.

I would find them cold 

and boneless on days

when smiling people recovered me.

My unspoken guest, in grief,

would clean accumulated dust from his person

and breathe as if it were his last one.

I wrote poems to the children 

but they flew away in the wind

unread.

I remembered my childhood

many small steps

regarding the big  ones.

I passed my black cloak and grave

throwing to them

my solitude’s dust

I didn’t want to finish my poem and I knew

I would learn to smile one day.

II.  Ahmad

I’ve said your name

many times which has

no significance

It’s hard and large

and doesn’t fit.

I’ve stroked your head

but your tiny hairs

stand up like pointed pines

and cut my hands.

I’ve tasted your blood and 

sweat which smell of turpentine.

Many pages I read

from back to front

interpreting my evilness yet

day and night I

let my shadow free,

I have no other.

You warmly sing to me of

the past

I listen to the birds.

We only meet in making love

It’s useless to hold your hand

which would escape

Although I carry pieces of  you 

in my pockets,

I don’t know why.

III.  Repeat

I saved my words in

tiny jars and spoke in moans.

I wound my hair around my 

waist and sat before the mirror.

Repetition dissolved itself

in air revolving

around my head in masses.

The mirror broke

I had no image

of myself.

swift and metallic,

wretched words - irregular notes.

I run fall as if charged by explosives

clouds cross my way and I drift through the trees hitting branches

I tumble through – hands out to catch

my breath….chewing on branches, spitting vaporous rain drops

and falling.

Then sleepy

blue and orange like a smile

cover me in continuity.

abnormally and bees swarm to its surface in decaying corners

entrusted to nature.

I caress their faces they

pass from room to room – empty corpses that vibrate…

*     *     *     *

in real time he approaches me and smiles

I am nineteen again

his picture is in my virtual soul

eyes that will forever gaze

before

circuits have been broken, rusting cables are left in the dust.