Or How A Lover's Skin Shivers Like Moonlight Over Water
Pantoum after Insomnio by Remedios
Varo
Let’s dream of the full moon through
transparent roofs
Deafened walls watch you sleepwalking with eyes
wide open
Embrace this wake as sand awakened by dew at
dawn
Follow the flame's glow as hours glide over
prayer beads
Deafened walls watch you sleepwalking with
eyes wide open
A lost mobilis in mobili rocked by the
tide's ebb and flow
Follow the flame's glow as hours glide over
prayer beads
Let's store worries in a drawer and throw the
key away
A lost mobilis in mobili rocked by the
tide's ebb and flow
Shake every speck of stardust from your hair
and thoughts
Let's store worries in a drawer and throw the
key away
Be happy you've just crossed one task out of
a long list
Shake every speck of stardust from your hair
and thoughts
Don't acknowledge yourself as an avatar of a
higher self
Be happy you've just crossed one task out of
a long list
Let’s invert it all, climb the slightest beam
of light
Don't acknowledge yourself as an avatar of a
higher self
Draw your strength from a phoenix riding a
tsunami
Let's invert it all, climb the slightest beam
of light
See how a lover's skin shivers like moonlight
over water
First published by The Opiate
Or How Could I Find My Way In Suspension In
Midst Of A Clearing?
After Madeline Series by Marilene
Sawaf
Lying down on the grass
eyes
filled with kaleidoscopic
images
rolling at full speed:
the rabbit pulls me through
a
bottomless pit,
the red-breasted blackbird keeps
whispering,
do not look back,
do
not search for his deep eyes,
nevermore, nevermore.
The passerine's monotonous chant sways
me
away from the moment
he
holds my hand. I think of maps
of love still eluding me:
they
put flowers on my hair,
sew
dresses that mark my waistline,
someday,
someday, they'd say,
won’t
forgive my drowning within
labyrinthine paths of wonder.
They want me to grow into a likeness
their
sight has already framed,
keep me in a cocoon never imagining
my flight: weren’t they ever lost in midst
of
a clearing or ever torn between
mirrors, I wonder, as I spend time
chiseling
my features and figure
a
curve here, a straighter line over there
attentive to the signals of my
heartbeat.
I am still dizzy from falling
flapping
wings ground me
insisting
eyes watch me from a balcony
I draw a Map of Tendre of every time
he
looks at me: didn’t he whistle once
when I walked home carrying baguettes?
And
the other day, oblivious
of
his friends, didn’t he turn around
his glance piercing the nape of my neck?
Signs fill my pages awaiting to be
deciphered:
the flowers on my hair
feel
heavier, their perfume weighs me
down, the rabbit is out of sight,
the
red-breasted blackbird keeps
chanting his rhythmic threnody
First published by Impspired
Or Don't We Often
Need An Allegro Ma Non Troppo?
After Four Symphonies (#
III) by Wadada Leo Smith
Think of a boy lost in midst
of
a rippling sound wave still
hanging
from his umbilical cord
he
lands on a tipsy summer moon
who tries to chase away the shadows
from
last night’s hangover
the
boy wants to catch
his own shadow with a fisherman’s
pole
that is really
a
violinist’s bow
A
page has been turned there’s a gap
in
the symphony
The boy waves his bow around
a
dragonfly and a pink-lipped orchid
he
wants to become
The
Little Prince
get
closer to the orchid’s heart
but she is only pursing her lips for a kiss
he
envies the dragonfly’s dance
Another
page turned another gap
Spiritual
fires rise out of darkness
in the moon’s secret landscapes
the
dragonfly hides under its shadow
the
orchid sleeps awaiting a kiss
the boy knows he needs to keep in touch
with
his own shadow and will only
hear
its music with eyes closed
to find out where he came from
and
what he wants to become
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