DUNES

Hills collides with the sea,

where bodies emerges and submerges; consciousness of the grey dunes.

PYTHIA

God-like erected,

you climb windows

as eylashes in flames 

In the dark

there is no one to know

For you say: I AM THE SUN

in that room

You

Always were known by

Phyagorian' sons

of

God-like erected shouts

On blinded Pythia

your Delphic stones

vaporous bodies off

Godess-like

Riding the depht of your

Sun eyed snakes

There is no one to know

in the dark

For your mouth is chasm

Of unknown death.

In the death of your eyes

I

She is radiant/hermetical to her nothingness. We stopped by the lake. Everything was quiet there-I've felt it- quiet and irrational, misshaped in his eyes ; the lake.

I've never really planned on being here with him, making it so easy, so easy for him and his breathing whom I've felt alternating in flashes of irregular thoughts. BUT I had a knife, as always. I won't make it that easy for him.

His skin was recognizable, every inches detailed by time's landscapes markings. In the back of my neck; his hand.

''I know this wind'' he says. ''The smell of it on the tip of my finger''. Why can't I recognize you? I thought. You are everyone in this moment.

Stranded

I had stand in the dark, stranded, off memory
White voices on a half Astron,
maybe it was a kindly gaze
maybe it was The Mother,
half blinded on descending skies
but
it was capricious
on a mouthful haze
The quietness of this night,
the quietness of this stilled night,
the quietness of the space
between empty shapes
I do not know
Why me is not another
Why am I watering unaligned words
orphaned from reason.
I had stand proud and in lies
therein laid my tired body
over the lunar desert of dried up eyes.
I am there.
Watching
the flowers carousel wooden dreams
where music had stopped:
bring me back
just bring me back
for I am stranded on your dark hair
night
I am
that
off
memory






Picture: Susu Laroche