Dec 29
(Once again)
It has been
October (when I met Tallinn)
December (freezing in Helsinki)
and June (memorable, for then "it" happened)
And now for the fourth time I am flying to meet you.
The plane has a negative net weight; thanks to the lightness I carried onto it.
Do you know next semester I will get paid to teach English grammar to native English speakers? I find that hilarious.
Do you know I am afraid of how you will look at me four hours from now? That you would find me odious and wish to go back through those very doors, now marked "NO ENTRANCE".
I got you some clothes for Christmas and now I am afraid you will think I am trying to clothe-improve you.
Do you know that you told me I am the only woman you could love forever, and I believed you?
And that I am pondering
The how, the why, and the what for! of us
Every day even as I lick the corners of my mouth.
The carpet of clouds is quite luxurious beneath us
Not unlike the lake by my house in the Winter (on a good day)
But how will I say I'm sorry?
Jul 24
Once upon a time, there was a concert of Souad Massi, at the Cabaret Sauvage in Paris.
Jun 20
My feelings crept up to my mind
And were sent back without delay
In a cascade of caskets.
Beauty and justice, when they concern me, will always also concern the world. It is not so with feelings: love of one man, fear of losing him, desire to bear and nurture his child, and so on.
These should not attempt to climb
To the mind to be spoken and heard
For they matter not in the least.
Feelings, stay home, the heart
Will provide comfy walls
For you to bounce off of.
Jun 3
They had the exact same curious blue eyes
Sitting side by side on the metro going northwest
Talking about glasses and shoes and how they no longer fit
I caught her looking at the bulging veins in her mother's hands
What was she thinking then?
Did she feel injustice: why must mother wither away?
Did she feel fear: these hands will become my gloves soon.
Or simply Mother, did she think, here are your hands.
Here they are holding a water bottle. Precious hands that fed me and caressed me.
Give me your water bottle mother and let me help you stand up this is our stop now.
May 16
Does it matter?
Every time I call out and say thank you
A slight breeze picks up
Or is it that every time I deign to pray
My mind becomes aware
Of a loving breeze that was always there.
Jan 9
Life is one of those flat escalators
Unbeknownst to your feet, you're moving
And while your mind wanders
Toward secret honest wishes
Of growing old with the one you think you love -
The escalator suddenly ends
Causing you almost to trip
As it brings forth an image of your Grandmother
Grandmother Louise, who sits upright
Barely
Rearranges useless serial objects and plastic food
On her table, repeating: this is not a life.
*The title means "Old age is God's failure" in Polish.
Jan 5
Now I find myself naked-necked
Unbound at last belonging
Decisively now
With the unseen resolve
Of water sinking through soil
To the roots of a new tree.
Nov 23
I imagine the future as an endless row of desktop computers
If you look closer you may see people sitting at some of them, blinking
Because the screen is glaring at them, while they try
Desperately to send a message to the person sitting next to them.
I remember that day when I was falling into the round sink
How you saved me then from the depths of hell
Even though you do not believe in hell, I put one foot in it
Before you heard and saw that which it is impossible to know.
At nights I am one of those blinkers, uncapable of touch
And in the mornings I refuse to wake, grasping at
Uncanny dreams in which nothing happens.
Aug 16
She waits to be revealed.
Jul 29
This is the third, and the ultimate.
