Monthly Archives: December 2016

Last night.
Last night,
on a shivering rock near the sea
a seagull sang
to her baby a candy-coated song.
As her sugary voice echoed the sky
the baby’s ears fed on it
like two starving feathery ants.
Slowly the waves started singing with her,
singing an enchanting lullaby,
which made the sun sleep longer
under the thick black blanket of the night,
but she slept violently,
kicking and tugging the blanket
with her flames,
tearing it,
and from the millions of tears in the blanket
rained down sunlight.
We call these glowing tears stars,
how ignorant have we become?

Listen.
Listen to the sea,
it made love last night.
Last night the sea kissed the pier
with an army of salty liquid lips,
they attacked the pier’s wooden body with lust
not leaving any part of her beautiful brown skin
unconquered with desire
and when she started laughing
the splinter-bruised blue lips knew they were victorious.
Last night.
Last night,
I was the sea
and you were that pier. . . .

Don’t you remember?
Don’t you remember?

She cuts off her wings,
and gave them to me as a gift,
stormy tears in my cloudy eyes.

Plucked some feathers, 
and used them as napkins. 
Throwing them in the air,
they’re shimmering
like white puddles,
illuminating
on the night sky’s black pavement
and that is how the stars came to be,
that is how the stars came to be.

Spirit of the wolf.
I bury a piece of my ghost
like a farmer.
Then comes fall, I will
harvest the moon
which will grow in my fields
as grains of lightning.
Cross us
and we will haunt you.

Death left its hue on him.
Slowly began to color him
white and gray
and draw wrinkles on his face.
Death left its hue on him.
That crazy artist.