Once her hand hits
the shopping cart
where her beer and children are stored
she won’t fall, just stagger
“Life’s a bitch,”
she’ll carry the beer upstairs
find the keys
and with cursing, the keyhole too.
Then she’ll disappear in her apartment.
A glow appears
behind her neighbors’ peepholes.
Once she sits at the table,
she won’t be seen.
The beautiful fairy behind closed doors won’t care
that someone snatched her cart
to get ahold of the dime.
It was my grandma
Nobody ever embraced me like she did
Breathtaking bear hugs
Sure, now I know it too
She drank a lot
And would hit my mom
And there was no one to hug at home
But then, I didn’t mind her limp hair
And her absent gaze, half-crazy
that of an animal hunted to death
I didn’t even notice how much her breath smelled,
when we danced together
to old crackling waltz records
and she would tell me,
“You’re a real lady.”
He stood over his wife
how she’d broken her leg.
Someone went to call the ambulance.
Nothing more was to be done.
He could carry on
with his musings.
There was rusty water leaking
out of the faucet at the time
and it was really getting to him.
they no longer looked at each other.
She limped long after that
and with weather changes
her leg would hurt.
He was forced to go about the house
on snooping missions alone.
It’s important to know
whether retail chicken
The discovery that the Earth is round
and orbits the Sun
didn’t make the world any easier.
The reassurance that one day
I might understand everything
Is not an answer.
The powerlessness and longing for something
I don’t know.
And the feeling
that if I travel the world
and stare myself into the darkness
it passing me by...
Perhaps there are times when you feel
like before you were born.
and someone more.
You will search for him for the rest of your life.
Into the white void
the head tilted just a tiny bit
a moment’s hesitation
Fog is a feeling
And in the soul’s darkest nook
a flash of hope.
Fog is our state of mind.
someday, that feeling of yours
of coexistence with entirety will return.
I don’t get why you’re so afraid
that it won’t.
So stop worrying, alright? And get a move on.
The sink’s full of dirty dishes. Someone has got to wash them.
Alone in Arles
Your room is empty all that yellowness
is mocking my pain
You’re predictable exact beautiful and
most of all somewhere else From now on always somewhere else than me
It’s a hard life with reed shaken in the wind
by misgivings and I am
I creep you out you think that I’ve gone crazy no
not yet Paul not yet
I can’t stand, no, I can’t stand any more loneliness
I fear myself and everything I could do
what won’t be I’ve got so little time
so little time and so much passion in me No it’s not
anger Why can’t you just
see How come you didn’t know as soon as
we’re apart we’re lost and
say what you will Death is lurking behind my eyes
Yours is clawing out too And there’s no way you can escape her All
those exotic islands you vanish off to
they’re too close too close Paul
Together we could do everything Apart we won’t survive
And your feigned calm Your patronizing arrogance
Won’t change a thing Off you go then
The Old Widow
I don’t write you letters anymore.
You used to have your mail
stuck on our fridge anyhow.
Why cry over spilt milk...
You are with me
even when I’m straightening
I’ve long since stopped being naive.
I no longer look up to the sky,
I no longer decode allegories,
I no longer comfort myself.
I don’t send you messages.
The chair facing me
at our rickety table
is not empty.
There are still brown stains
of spilt coffee
on your side.