Silence Is Sexy

Rainy right where I begin
The wind knocks about the fences overthrowing some of them
Only the leaves are strong enough
To resist his flirting and temptations

A strange emptiness in my head
Like a weariness of material
Thoughts dancing with the wind somewhere
Left me with conviction that
Silence is sexy

Watching my hands
Red striped knuckles
As if banged and blown through a wall
Me
I've just rat raced someone's words
Two at a half-price
Three for two

And the thoughts
That abandoned me somewhere on the road
And won't come back
Silence

Silence is sexy

Thursday Morning

People killed, some others thrilled,
Bomb attacks, growing tax,
Earth is quaking, markets breaking,
Rivers polluted, dictators saluted,
Forgiveness forgiven, mind to craziness driven,
Friends are hating, haters loving,
Jobs are lost, laws criss-crossed,
Financial crisis consuming, recession booming...

Fuck that,
I'm going back to sleep.

Let This World End Already

Mind wrapped in a cellophane
Static narrative of the present
Draws voice picked fruits of intellectual purity.
On the outskirts of my perception,
How am I to comprehend
The inevitability of the today
If the tomorrows of the days to come
Devour the pasts that already became.
The vulture of my voiceless thoughts
Reminds me time and again, not to expect,
As expectations surpass, contrary to the passing of time
Which is nothing more as a certain state
Of our ubiquitous iniquities of imagination.

Time

The clock does not run
Beyond the tick-tock of eternity,

As they say death is eternity.
Futures that will happen,
Might not happen at all,
This is the smoothness we cannot achieve
Except in a child's creating possibility.
The stunned silence
Of knowing I will not remember
What I heard
Pendulum motion finite stops
By a determined, invisible hand.

The Conversion of Littelilly

Cat and I are like intertwining jinn-jang bugs – this is Tao – and it can't be forgotten that every cat, gato in Spanish, contains in itself three letters from Tao, where g is as if a hole left in ponchos by Indian women for the soul not to become a prisoner of the fabric. [translation mine]

Julio Cortazar "Last Round (The Conversion of Theodor W. Adorno)"

Soaked in a newspaper, brought to me, as always, by local postman, a nice older man with a big hackneyed by time bag, and sipping tepid, yet still strong, coffee, I heard the meowing that, for that exact moment, I didn't realize it would accompany me for the rest of my days. I've ignored it at first, thinking it was one of my neighbour's tomcat preparing for heating or being severely pecked by a stronger than itself bird. Not paying much attention to this sudden cat mourning I've returned to my morning routines: reading, teeth washing, phone calls to close, or less close, friends, some time at my typewriter that begun to cover with thicker and thicker dust – the inspiration has left me recently, I wasn't able to flood the paper with a single real sentence, only word clusters, letters resembling prison breakers – and, finally, putting my favourite flannel shirt – inseparable comrade of my forest walks, often lasting for the rest of my day. That particular day was different, though.

(memory) Balm

here comes one of your
fav anniversaries
tell me what've you managed
to still so far - I mock you as

the closets are full of
unpacked gifts because
I don't know what might be inside

it's crucial to mark
the end of this snake as not to become
the top of the biggest lameness

because!
because!

Housing Estate Resurrections

the children are healthy
safe and tasty

like abortion on demand

people from a queue for bread
look - this is the landlords revenge
lofty intent and a king of bends

look - this is what the TV money are
gorgeous and motley
don't fret precious -
some start to dream just now

but if you need me - I am
in the house next door

Homecoming

English winter rain
somewhat suffocating

we wreck what we create
because we own the sky

so many moons here
lost wings floating


each shade of blue
is kept in her eyes
soft, tender or cruel
can't we change our minds?

***

the shallow breath
ecstasy is carnal
soul hides in the corner
a spear blade, for me, for ever?
it's a different story, tagged
one heart stabbed, while the other waiting for a stroke
no, I've never kissed you, he said,
and all this just for you
how is it that you don't have to be perfect for me to love you?