FURTHER PICTURES OF LONELINESS AND BEYOND

 

i

February, from the train window

clouds of pregnant, pearly grey,

a snow shower. Not much later

on the horizon a gash of blue.

What is more riveting than this space

imbued with boundlessness

and the word “away”?

 

ii

Great illusion of emails, blogs

and faces on a screen, crowds

jostling in bodiless mess,

browsers brow, surf, cruise,

taste the spray, no use,

voices and faces are vacuumed

simply away when you switch off

and what remains? Your cheekbones

in the heat of silence and a gaze

gazing in its own gaze.

 

 

iii

This story is so strange, so unique,

so utterly convincing in its own

being a freak.

From the silence of the horizon

you  bounce now into the busyness

of the page, or you were already

lost in both. After silence and word

your belly burns, like with fire and ice,

fingering the page maybe you are

already erased.

 

iv

Bless my nothingness.

Maybe I am already in the afterlife.

But spring is vast and earthy.

And I am so utterly conquerable,

a bit of a whiff of wild garlic

will be enough.

And I will soon look for frolics

in the splendid inconsequential

grass.