zondag 30 januari 2011

DISAMBIGUATIONS


































We can celebrate melancholy,
be the roses of the night
and plasticise our smiles
for others to keep
or to
borrow.

woensdag 26 januari 2011

GLASS

















I shift and shake in my sleep.
The bed is made of glass. The bed is a kite
like a chandelier question, wondering what broke.
I spent my night dreaming bloody sunrise
two dozen times, and I am tired like
living marrow that swims in a grave,
too real to be anything but latent memories
of when I watched you fall,
and spasm with lightning
before you became a god.