What I ask of you
is to invent a reason
something of a shade
like a morsel of labyrinth,
to shed a tear
like a long branch of truth,
a solitude that has the figure
of a stranger followed by smoke,
something that I need is so elemental
like the way you tear away the wings
faithless in the heights,
what I ask is for you to turn around
bright, tangible and ancient
peeling naked our sense,
it is not hope that I seek
but in infallible squalor
to touch your name.
it is the air expanding
leaning invisibly
on the things
that lie awake
in the oblivion of
our acts
it’s in the hair
how it flees
description
under a delirium
of nods
it is your hand playing
with the light and motion
of a naïve hour
a choice
forever collapsing
in the past
it is melancholy
beading slowly
these pearls of remembrance
in the wasteful hand
of a poet.
my mistake was
to make a philosophy
out of the gurgling sound
when hope
sank to the bottom
of the pond
I invested too much in clouds
they can hardly break
the rapid fall of my words
as they crash into
solid stupidity
I have to return
to the meaning
of stone
I have to tip over
my dreams
as boulders on summits
that wreck
below
could hurt like
a sudden
birth.
I kept
the elements tightly
together
coated by the universe
of my skin,
in there I live too
throwing in the fire
the logs of life,
waiting for the blaze
to engulf all nature
and allow me a glimpse
of some bliss
at the other end
of
living.
Beyond Language 
You must be logged in to post a comment.