echo

draped with echo

I have a bubble
of music
swelling inside:
the silent walls,
the cold
structures of silence.

It is a tiny
flame of sound,
a flickering leap
upon the smooth
slabs of concrete.

I saw the snow
today fall
like an army of silent
white deaths.

And I wanted
to join its
fragile thaw.

I feel.
A minor chord
aches,
yes it resonates,
inside a minor heart.

I pressed down
decadently on
the piano keys.

The dark is draped with echo.

 

 

Nihilistic Poetry

in the span of 20 minutes

Sufferer's cloud

The rain has made
senseless x’s on the pane
beyond it
the turbulent clouds
initiate the horror
and a short trance,
my madness

no symbol
is free

to speak of mundane
matters
is now unacceptable

the world
useless as thing
but the most terrible
warning

an opening in the clouds

supine
on the ground
a yellow blindness
through eyes surrendering
I sense
blood fencing the sky

inside
an egg
of impatient
globular substance

a sufferer’s music.

Nihilism Poetry

desire of light

desire of light poem

 far
this film
phantasmagorically alive
the wave is sensuous motion
a cusp of existence inwardly
joy by another name
in perishable lands of laughter
my child, you are born
and fiction begins
blood recedes as pound of music
descending cutting the cello in two
life drips as the dawn flower meant to pray
the cry is yours, crossing the sphere
of music tenderly
as a desire
                  of light.

 

 

night-voiced

Sadness, Despair Drunk Poetry

The sadness of the rain
falls
over the happiness of process
we go down to the corners
and take a piss
to avoid the police
and the exuberance of being guilty
then we go back inside
where despair is dissipated
towards the music
and
the noise
makes us forget all the pain
that made us cry in the dark
of a summer night
let’s be brave
betray
so we drink, drink, drink
and then we talk
talk and talk
the flowers on the wallpaper
made with the scent
of the spring
we never had
this is the wood
the glass
the concave walls
the drunk echo
nobody will record
for the annals
of
history.


21st century poetry

somewhere in the noise

Noise Poem for Arvo Paart

there is a sound
that covers
less regions of
being
a frail ash
unique as the light
on a speck of illusion
it is the faithful motion
of a fingertip
softly caressing
like a pendulum
the lips of energy
intensely receptive
to every hair
brushing against the onrush
of time –
a pause
awaiting the decisive note
of a cycle
that starts here
and ends
in music.
 
 

(dedicated to Arvo Pärt)

21st Century Poetry

life as song

That this life is a song

                a rhythm in time

       it is a string of melody

               an intoxication of chords

                   a synthesis of possibilities

                      an improvisation of pattern

       that it is wandering

              a spontaneous unity

           an organic experience of circumstances

               a multiplicity in simplicity

       that it is an urgency to vibrate

              a progress through novelty

                 a passage through uncertainty

                   a metamorphosis through seasons

that this life is a surprise

           a song in disguise

  

             there is little doubt.

Corner’s spiral

 

 

Come trace each spiral’s end

the emptiness of every word

fullness of rippling chords

wondering, strange wondering

                      those that once were

where has the smoke of their pipes

          traveled?

To them we were distant dream’s child

a rising vapor over their colossal deaths—

serene nocturnal sounds

Gathering ink droplets

      over prayer’s whisper

and the fall, rushing leap

bottom deep darkness into

deep immensity’s embrace

Violin growth of love

the stream naturally light

flight upon mountainous sleep

crossing threads of cycles and returning

Entering moment’s origin

returning every minute

                       arriving over and over again.