The only thing of which I dreamt
Last night was the sea;
It was green,
The way I saw it…
Ripe,
Rough,
With a promise of satiety.

I am not blind,
But walking on pristine earth
Through a frame with trees on either side
Pricks my feet.
My breath a mirror of my steps,
My heartbeat, racing as if in battle,
Things are as I envision them to be.

The sky is so green too,
As dark as the songs of boys,
And when I thirst for the shore
With a cleaver,
I draw my way through the woods.
I follow the roar,
And the smell of fear.

My mother’s bread, timeless as the sky.
Gulls pass
So slow,
As though the air’s suppleness
Had long since departed.
Ships warm me,
Wake me with a soprano’s song;
Chanting without words!

I will not leave this house,
With its naked walls,
Because breaking brings such pleasure.
I will not leave because a dwarf…
Blinkers himself with mirrors,
And approaches with a dagger,
Because my neighbour digs through garbage,
Counting the dates my sons ate for breakfast

On lonely nights, I relate tales of revenge to jackals;
They listen like a curious stranger.

We all learned the lesson…
With incense, the darkness recedes,
With the chosen spectacles, the storm passes.

The cancer of meaning pervades the air,
I pick a fistful of light,
A balm for my anxiety,
Then I slip down an alley with no end.
The sky is nothing more than a twisted river,
Lives that never run out,
Six-sevenths of the universe is silence;
Singing unlike us,
The rest is but nonsense.