whom do i speak to?
a stranger walking in the dark
climbing his mountain
ever waking at the foot of his bed
***
i see them around me:
actors perform, businessmen do
writers compose and presidents chew.
artists are
***
parts of me are disappearing in a flood of light
data piles on and my memories are no more
i wish i didn't remember loosing what i held
***
the tallest building is no more than a grain of rice
once you remove all its empty space
like a spinning wheel seems to be a ball
before it rests again
the illusion isn't what we see but its name
we're not matter, just energy,
waves, nuclear forces weak and strong,
invisible poetry moving the strings along
***
i went to see her
but she wasn't there
i passed in front of a statue
slowly moving and breathing air
i left as i didn't know what to say
never will i again
dream on a sunday
***
the poet walks still
sits around
hears silence
and speaks with his mouth shut
