of perception

brown wood floor

The raw brown
of this wood
the brown seed
of the book
the brown organ
of the smoke
I move like yellow
tint of dust
around the room
by balconies of thought
swift tactless morsel
of some body
I came to this room
I saw the wood
I conquered none
and half a pulse
without a crown
of ideas
without laurel
or course
I feel the brown
seeping into
whatever the room hides
I concentrate movement
towards a loud buzz
I call this circumstance home
and beyond it
an abyss
without a window.

Poetry 2012

Façade (or the ontology of walls)

ontology of walls

the walls have existed
alone before I was born
in spirit molding matter
a presence alighting on our fields
against nothingness, they have existed
floating above the secret –
the walls, the reticent walls
sustaining their own weight
sustaining pale coats of paint
alone before I was born
alone after we all die
the walls of buildings
where to keep my shadows
a sojourn a refuge
a stairway into the basement – more than that
a sorrowful edge
the walls stand sloughing the horizon
the walls stand seeping the miracle
they have existed
long before I had set my eyes
on their silent countenance
long before their bricks
congealed into purposeless

Modern Poetry

hum along


Hum, hum, hum
numb, numb, numb
here I am gone
she flakes off
blue nail polish
thus we glide
in underground
bum, bum, bum
my bore-dom
wrong, wrong, wrong
I’m undone
rum, rum, rum
I’m no fun
alone in the world
I am on the run.