Between her white fingers
The soporific Marlboro
burns, burns
Staining her lips, eyes
soul, soul
And the puffs she inhales
Tow her beauty, age
Between her white fingers
Life turns to ash, ash
I stoop and amass her lips, eyes
soul, soul
And burn it at home
Not Hiroshima. Nor Nagasaki
A tender flower, serene rivulet
The soft glow of Moon
Yet it exploded
Massacring emotions
Rooting out love,
Love
Your words like an atomic
Bomb
Dropped
Into this heart
Extinguishing smile,
Smile
And teardrops rained
I am the skeleton of love
Put me in your Museum
Visit my corpse
Each explosive decade…
Dull, dull are the eyes
Of Tinkune
And the hearts worse
Than these dusty roads
And the voices more earsplitting
Than these tooting vehicles, yelling conductors
I remember you, your love for me
It’s never smooth, never fresh
A bumpy ride, knackered easily
Yet we love each other
Because we know bliss lies yonder
Dull, dull are the eyes
Of Tinkune
And we’re not of the same.
Divorced leaves
Weave autumn in me
Thoughtless
This wound
O’ foreign tongue
Licks me heartlessly,
I am squeezed like the sun
O’ autumnal winds,
This heart is in fire.
An invisible dagger
Like a noonday shadow
Imitates the staggering
Footsteps
The mind capsizes
In the flooded heart,
And the light o’ the eyes
Embraces the fading sun
Two oranges
Perpendicular
The face o’ a dying man
Raze the feverish bluish head
On the horizon
I attend their wounds
Vertical
Jangling vandalism
Tectonic mind seesaws
Like a mad wild pig
Snortin’, gnawin’
Against the burnin’ pyre
A cold star
Plunges into the ash balls
And melts with the screaming sinews
