existential poetry

nowhere to be found

Nowhere Lost

It felt like an absence
  because I found myself
naked and in darkness
the wood on which I sat
the timid air
the swollen imagination
could I repeat
my lucky survival once again ?
together, wed-locked
to the void that excites
me, to the nothingness
that caresses me, to the silence
that disintegrates me
I would remain
    somewhere, somehow
giving names to unknown
aspects of reality
    imagining myself naked
or aroused
  or isolated
or none of these
just then,
nowhere to be
found.

Nihilistic Poetry

between words and things

Am I the apparition

between this thought

and you, the thing-

in-itself coming through

the flooded veins of my perceiving

with this thing there

constituting my content

while I compose its name

we are united in the poetic theme

of the present moment –

and that thing

is no other than my fragmented self

losing the virginity of conception

the birth of the concept

allowing life, my life

merge with the myriad voices of yours

closely knitted with the linen of a dreamt world

as closely as two poets speak

from unreachable regions of being

hills of this journey

how to be human

when

becoming is still in our bloodstream.

 

Nihilistic Poetry

Wrong gone

Come

swing like a pendulum

then fall

squash me like an ant

dead, beat, microorganism

could all the volumes of metaphysics

misconstrue this fact?

let it out

you are the entire nothingness

that ever was

you are everything… that’s gone

wrong.

My mirror

What was it that you said?

  am I still not inaccessibly alone

imagining hordes of men and women

   conjuring movements of civilizations

as the smoky characters of a dream

     as the twisted story of a hallucination

is that your echo by the candlelight?
 

   how can a voice enter this airless chamber

in the skintight solitude of my nullity

corner

    my acute angle

 a point without length, without breadth, without breath

           breathe, did you say?

where comes that voice

     the invisible companion

             hidden behind layers of insensitivity

how can something delicate survive

       near my poisonous skin…
 

am I still not alone

    dreaming worlds and stars

are you there, 

     my mirror, my love?

Nihilistic Poetry