The loneliness of memory

They live alone in his head
it's hard for them

they have to carry
on their shoulders
what he went through

and compress the long journey
of several decades
into minutes

they amuse themselves with
stories long forgotten

they get angry at incidents
now pointless

they live in circles
in circuits
of dead autumn leaves
and growing decay.

Everywhere

In wheat stalks
that rise to the sky

and in lakes
that float into sleep

I live in pebbles
that study the ocean

and flowers
that dream of rain

I live
in prayers that speak of you.

The Unicorn

I see on the surface
what forms inside me

While

within my inside reflects
the surface image

the joy of a temple chant
announces my arrival

lingering between me
and the god I behold

Emptiness

not like space
but like a web

I will usually avoid
all that burns
or freezes under

I am used to
a moderation
unlike my own

I hesitate to climb into
things that move quickly
I prefer the easy pace
of slow summer days

try as you may
you won't make me leave

except

I like to leave, sometimes
if leaving is what it will take.

Constancy

Constancy
was always possible
specially in our heads

what was tough

was how to translate it for today
into trees and people
into kindness

but nourishing it for ourselves
we were good at.

Rocks

They are silent, attentive
they listen to every sound
and absorb inside them
the loudest note

they keep nothing
except their size

and take in their stride
the harshness of suns
the impatience of tides

the earth is of them, of their dust
and their lucid madness.

The Fringes

The limits of darkness
the circles of darkness
till the farthest point

The Fringes

near the faraway light
so far, so remote
so far fetched

that I cannot imagine
thinking clearly there.

Southwards

I wanted to see you
so I turned without thinking, vacantly
to the deep end of the horizon

Southwards

ever since
I have watched, in awe
your infinite grace
and ecstatic light.

The television, seriously

The television is innocent
It's made of polished steel

It survives on borrowed voice
forgetting its metal

it's rancour
is without power
It wants nothing more
It owes nothing more

It contains its own madness
self-sufficient and harmless

The Letter V

I'm not like the letter O
perfectly formed

but I enjoy being angular
quirky and unpredictable
I usually stay aloof
and when incited
I attack with my sharp edge

later when I calm down
I again shut up

and become elusive
carefully guarding the end
always open
to the world outside.

The Letter B

I sometimes wonder
how straight lines feel
bumping into themselves
at the bottom of every curve?

and if that's not enough
they continues to swing again
after being so rudely put off.

The Letter W

I get tired walking all the way up
my two small summits
and it's scary to slide
all the way down

my two hollow valleys
give me the small hope
of stopping
and the illusion of repose

The Letter O

You've got the good fortune
to hold depth
on your surface

a fullness that's based
on a single line
where no escape is possible
into another form

your motionless back and forth
nourishes you
at each of your points

the depth of your body
is peaceful, almost soulful,
and you can keep safely
everyone's secret.

The Letter A

Sometimes I wonder
how it might feel
to be glued together like you
than living life
in broken straight lines

I don't even remember
who cut me up

Sometimes I wish
for want of being an integrated whole

to pull my pieces together
and feel like you feel
stuck together.

The cities of remorse

I feel deep remorse for the land
of an endless river

The small bursts of rain
swelling up
into pools on the pavement

there I see you perfectly still
like the slum

there I see you stagnate
like squatters

Friends

When can I talk to you
If only for an hour
or a few stolen minutes

Friends

Without you having the face
of being so busy elsewhere?

The open eye

Along the lines of traffic
and the streets of freon, came
a shock of wind, crashing

against endless apartments
against the concrete

and in the midst of its movement
the lake came in view
as the open eye

which like an angry god
was watching everything.

The Letter 'M'

You appear to go way too far
arranging yourself so neatly

and take your symmetry
perhaps too seriously

you are obsessed
with a life of order

Do you ever stop to wonder
what the future holds for you?

My womb

It's only in the clarity
of silence
that I'm able to breathe

and it allows me to hear
the breathing of this world

diving into the deep end
I begin to recognise myself
my reality and myth

and silence becomes my womb.

Histories

I sense
there is a story book
of our shared history

which I call upon
without quite understanding, fully
what it really is

and it is this story
of love, and doubt
of passion, and surprise
that controls us both

or maybe
it only controls
what I believe I am.

Meditation

The blaze of
the new summer sun
looks at me
watches my body

I give up any attempt
at control
with only my skin to respond
only my surface

but I retain the possibility
of meditation.