"... And whatever the rivers in which we seek our
reflection we see ourselves only when we turn around." Henrik
Nordbrandt
The latter are never any good, we already knew
before returning to meet our beach then.
There are so many things we have to tell
just sitting on some old tires
observing the same dunes that summer together.
is a clear, calm morning. The wind plays with your hair.
wearing sunglasses, camouflage who has become elusive.
I have had many girlfriends since then I've slept with girls
I have changed the perception of the world
filtering my wishes as gold diggers in a bank. You have believed
find true love
to replace the true love and
experience you shining is a benign tumor in the palm of his hand, surrounded
moments endless legs and wrists,
and "learn the keys to pain in two weeks."
Some bodies have eroded our bodies, our souls
creating silent forms of ocher,
plain sad, vacant land and ravines
from those same bodies were thrown.
's hot, you hear sirens in the distance ambulance
roar of heavy machinery, the center of gravity
many other lives. We still talk but we both know
that ours has become a hopeless eternity,
and much as I strive to write poems that speak
dignity and survival, of glaciers and deserts,
storage rooms and mezzanines, and however much
you write about the life that you insist on going through hell
live every moment, we both know that whatever
faces in which we seek
we see each other every time we turn around. _________________________________________________________
0 comments:
Post a Comment