Sunday, October 05, 2014

One more

In my dream last night
I grew wings but
didn't know how to
fly and once I
left the ground
electric wires hindered
my ascent
so I searched and
searched but found
scarce an
open space through
which to reach
the sky.

And more still, call me prolific

What melancholic
secrets secrete
our pumping hearts?
Seek and sift
the melancholic
secretions of our
secret pumping
Ourselves deposits
on shifting sands
where secret hearts
buried hidden
pump secretions,
secret substances:
an individual's hidden stuff,
diffuse on deltas
before the endless sea
to be submerged
endlessly, until
humanity's persistent
river's flow
stops and secret hearts
pump no longer
our secret melancholic stuff!

More poetry (3 short ones), a year (or two) later

Melemen with
Sucuk and
Turkish tea
for breakfast
every Tuesday.

The sun's horizontal
recalls the blazing
passion and loneliness
of winter's
long heart.

We start small
so don't see the
difference in height
between mom and dad
And only later learn
it's odd that
she's so much taller.