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Editing - polished draft

your onions are making me cry

The minced beef reminds me of how I want to smash your head.

Inside you, there's no brain
and nothing left to your soul,

with vinyl gloves, I plaster

the feelings.
I hide 'em all

in layers of beef

and just to remember
the garlic does not always give a better taste,

it can also ruin the whole recipe.

Tremendous disasters come due to wrong quantities
-the qualities are already lost.

Don't look at the knives.
They are haemorrhaging in the bags.
They are thirsty for blood.

when the trees will disappear

wide awake in front of open windows
agitating for a breath,
we will run barefoot up until the forest to watch
to our surprise
that the trees aren’t disappeared

but that they have conspired
not to give ever again breath to humans,
especially to the ones who never understood
where life ends and where death begins,
to the ones who have been losing the tree for the forest.

for now, we are losing them both.

Amending the Edges

I don't know when the change came for me
It's not like a date you can mark on the calendar
With little still to prove to anyone,
the edges are worn now, smoother

The change, I think, came from living
and learning from all the mistakes and battles,
as well as a few skirmishes of the soul
I cherish all the ribbons awarded me,
secretly displayed on my heart

Of water (I)

the water fills me.
my mouth
                    d
                       r
                         i
                           p
                              s
on muddy grounds;

though my lips are arid
                                            and
  all I can think is you;
                                your face
                                                  drowning

                                                m
                                                e.

Visit With a Friend

It was such a striking part of my dream. In-between snippets with no apparent connection …why was I wearing hipster shoes with no socks? …why am I arguing with my dog, and where did he get those pants??? I wish I could speak with my dreamkeeper for explanations that often elude me there.

But I digress.

Absence

As I open my eyes the morning scurries about
gaining purchase in all of my senses
from the blatant light spilling through the window,
and the chill clinging to the edges of the night before

And I’ve already been thinking a lot
about holes, the empirical shape of loss,
and how they relate to grief

In the realm of my sorrow these shapes
aren’t ruled by the laws of physics.
Sometimes the holes visit me as colors,
often red and angry at the thievery

Détente

Thunder before rain
A rainbow offers a truce
from the raging storm

Stretching wings workshop (morphing exercise)

The marriage of Oeagrus

sandal dust rose
in the overcast affliction
of midday
I was reaching for rain
when
horizon born Calliope
touching clouds like a spear
appeared
her lustrous beauty
in an instance of blinding fire
ate my nakedness

approaching
but then again
a vision of the wind in flux

Oh, save me

the lamb of subjection covered me
the smell of ancient dust
and steel mixed with blood
I begged her eyes
my life force gushed

Candlestick, October 17th 1981

We arrived at five a.m.
thinking this was early enough
for great seats close to the stage - wrong!
The tents and campsites had been there for days

A tower of empty bottles over our heads, whisky, vodka, tequila,
and all the other varieties you could possibly imagine – no bottles allowed
Having delivered their liquid feelings of euphoria
they were piled high at the entrances;
a free-form sculpture of color and glass!

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