Two poems

earned short circles
short cuts
hair cuts
and the looops not suggested anymore
are the obscene flair
of focusless wilderness
originized now
in look-back feedback
grungelized
recycled
concrete
grabitude


you can object
anything
i would not resist
just the words and mimes
pass me through
and i will continue
looking at you


please forgive
that other times
i will be forced
to hesitate
when both we hang in the air
wondering front to front
palm to palm
seeing the other
and slip through into


some other time
we stare at clouds
forget everthing
that´s nearer than them
we´d loose ourselves
and panic did show
in hysterical fun
of the wideness and thrill
our embracement would hold.

another now
we would choose our selves
just not frantic but slow
each a multitude and still one

switching strong will
and forgetting untold
the cloud still wide
and arousing the look



- - - - - - - -



flying sources



i´m reading a book
it takes quite long to read it
thin little book
somebody wondered

the woman who wrote
didn´t take it too bloomy
not immersing with fogs
like it would happen to me
if i´d long to close my eyes
which sometimes i love
flying up like a dove
that is playing the cello
then i might yell
“o, you dove
i know you´ll return
with the tones
of the sun burning
stronger the higher
and wider you fly
--- only to know
what that´s worth
you come down and go
for a walk
and to play a few notes.”

but that book is a wake dream
the more it awakens
the more it´s a dream
made of streaming moving webs
flashing up and relating
to the someone
who becomes one
another
time
and again
all along
wake-streaming mumbling
“o, yes, i can see” ---
sometimes noting
the sources of this phrase
as changing
and moving
and digging
and trying
and some, at times,
flying
with a picture in mind
and no picture in mind ...


.

(sept 2009)

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