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Tear fishers II - in the morning
poetry [ ]
continuum-journal

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
by [mihamax ]

2004-07-29  |     | 



(drop 29.07... 10.00)
XIV
in the morning...
I know...
I was just a name on a paper
an innocent name on a lousy paper
a dusty forgotten cover
in the wind
from a journal with it's pages
gone somewhere inside
your soul
I know...
there was no time, anymore
our bags were already fulled with silence
we forgot to put in there
the time, the clouds
our wooded rainbows
our flock of eyes
yes I do know...
maybe just your pity
could there have spoken
but

XV
we didn't know each other

not anymore
I didn't recognize
none of your thoughts
in my mine
none of my dreams
in the hole hidden
resting beneath your front eye
it seemed like
I was here for the first time
now
waiting
as to join you
with my eyes
the time you take to clean the room
for this new waiting soul...
too much
perhaps
they hurt me deep
these
unforgivable thoughts of yours
crying deep, senile
dropping from your
smiling leaps...

XVI
have I told you

ever
that I loved you?
maybe not...
enough
since you had to go away
from me
without taking anything at all
not even a child of good-bye
from my last look behind
searching even now in
the line of the horizon
the trace of your hunting eyes
from the same shore...

XVII
oh, yes.

I waked up late
too late, in fact
with this strange
love in my arms
and I don't know what to do
I'm turning it upside-down
like an old currency
I look at it's sides
like of a diamond tool
I'm looking inside
but I can't feel anything
amputated
from my dreams
just another
tiny creature of cloud
sweet nothingness
sailing very slowly
outside of my body...
taking with it
all the warmness inside
my blood is cold now
I'm a just little lizard
without a tail
reborning a
convalescent one

XVIII
yeah
you're laughing now...

you can do it, I don't mind...
they're shinning in the light
the teeth of your smile
thirsty in myself
I do think that somehow
I did something wrong
to our bodies
...just like in an unsuccessful surgery
for the separation of
two bodies
mine, and yours
living onetime ago
together in the same dream
one of those
when all in one
and one in all dreams
has now a voice of it's own
and it doesn't stop whispering
things that I don't want to hear
I ought to stop maybe
my ears to listen
I ought maybe to bury them
in the skin of the dog
barking in the morning
running through my veins...
nesting the stars
one by one
in my exhausted body
for the evening nurturing
of the entire pack
...this is today
my whole answer to you
you had guess indeed
intimate journal...
in the light of the silence

...




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