Poems

Every Thing

Let the wind out of the mouth of the fisherman
To the temple/skeleton/ of the boat from the depth of the sail
And undo the lock from the mouth of the river
Shout
You drowning one
In the whirling depth of the water/waves

The river starts/begins usually calm
The shores begin with gathering the suns
From the mouths of dead fish
The cooking of shadows begins with the smell
The clearing/sweeping of the pebbles

But the calm, the wind, have the sound
Of those who ride the sails - but the stillness

They sail from a distant night
They dig the water with old customary patience/ persistence
And look darkness in the eye

When/while I sailed near the morning
From the erasing/erasers(?) of what in her chest/heart
Fixing the meaning
Arriving/ coming from it/her seeking the shore
The greenness of life and identity papers
While another one
Gives you the earth to rent
From between her eyes
And demands the serenity/tranquillity/of writing - everything!

Share this poem

view comments

Comments (1)

nagapie

I love the breeze “freighting” the stillness. 

Leave a comment