IN CONVERSATION

And yet life is lonely
As the floodgates open in drunken stupor
Drops, drops and drops
The soul thirsts for blue poison once more

An inebriated kiss trickles down the edge of an aeon
My eyes, they close
The birds of the blue earth fly into abstraction

In eagerness I ruffle my feathers damp
Bits of scissored neon light remain scattered around the grille
Shall fly into the black embrace of night
A darkness without address, without even existence
But alas! The wings they are severed

Only shadows remain scattered
In all light, in all darkness
Not a feather, not a drop of rain
Not you, nor I
Only gusts did I gift life
And the boat was lost in the river-breast
You keep waiting for the colours to mature
Meanwhile it rains in the canvas
Washing off all fairy-tales
Just a fistful of sand left behind

But may be those are not shadows
Fistfuls of stardust are strewn on the dunes
Sheathing the moon, sheathing the clouds,
May be shadows they are not
May be it is I
After silent departure

Someday the boat was to be lost in foreign waters
A mistaken address
The wrong river
As the shadows merge between the stars
All that remains is an oceanic night
Waves,
Tides,
And a girl, hiding her face in the dunes
The girl from the poet’s diary
The girl who could not return in the nick of time

A one-night-stand
A millisecond of love
No recognition thereafter.
And that is how we receive anew
Comprehension nil, neither any effort at it
This is not mind, nor brain…just the intoxication of life.