The space partitioned by electric wires
And anchored to the ground by the poles
Is well and truly caught.
They cut my vision –
Straight lines across unending undulation
Of hills and clouds.
Ugly not because
Of shape, but due to insular connections –
They only touch each other, not the space
They fracture with the guiltless disregard
Of those unaware.
Rest in peace
My endless space
Available in pieces.
The sun is low
the moon is high
the sky’s aglow
and I get by
on coffee
and hope
and light.
The heady air
is in my lungs.
My head is bare.
I speak in tongues
of futures
and hope
that’s bright.
The night is waiting
but day is long –
time for creating
another song
with nonsense
and hope
and rhyme.
While sun is shining
there’s time for fun;
there’s no divining
when day is done –
depleted
of hope
and time.
Today the sky is low overhead.
It’s paved with clouds – small and hard;
It presses down, hue and weight of lead.
You feel hemmed in an empty prison yard.
Today the sea is cold and oily-still,
reflecting cobbled sky – grey shades on grey.
Today the pain is harder to conceal,
as heavy blankness saps your strength away.
Today it’s hard to leave the past behind
you try ignoring sky and sea in vain.
They press too tight, you panic, deaf and blind.
It’s hard to move, but harder – to remain.
You trudge through empty, foggy, silent streets
the road is uphill. The hill is high.
One foot in front of other, body leads.
Insensibly, you walk into the sky
And on you walk, along the cobbled sky,
the sea above reflecting endless plain.
To see the world anew. To say good-bye.
To greet the sun that burns support away.
Dried tears of rain
streaking the window.
Tired late train
slogging through the dusty landscape.
Long summer day
dragging into the past,
unheeded.
Calligraphy of naked branches
against the urban avalanches
is crisp and clear, like the voices
of morning birds. There are no choices.
Breathe in the cold that stops your breath,
that fills your lungs – your shibboleth
and drown, happy, in the verse
of crystal clear universe.
