life looks fine
as long as one
knows how to walk
in the desert
all is beauty swinging
in labyrinthic change:
are there springs?
what does the hungry
man do with a ticket
to King Lear:
he cannot eat it
i cannot describe
this rock in the sea
it is cold and lonely
no ship comes near
i went there
by forgotten boats
off track
and no lights set
i remember
it was dark
when i arrived
as it is dark now
i have no body
now, i am a ghost
with ears and
memories inside
sometimes i hear
gulls and a sobbing
in the melody of winds,
i smell the salt. the stars
have their own scent.
and here i will die
on a rock, a sofa
or in neon light,
it will be the same.
i saw two birds
in opposite flight
fading away.
in the sky, traces
of planes flashing
criss-cross, meaningless,
did they lift off the earth?
sometimes in me
telephathic presences
out of other spaceships,
tentacles reaching out
and i don't know,
to shudder
or to find comfort
being reached
on this black and solid
so slippery rock
to which i am chained
by my denial to be
it is a secret:
at times i leave
for an excursion
a day trip into freedom
which i find
has more prisons
than me
and my rock
i don't know
what to do with
the void, it sucks
all into nothing.
so i pray
on my rock
to let me fade
away like fog
and i hear the
horns blow,
the cities fall
and a flood will come
