The Blog of Laughter and Forgetting

This is not a poem. This is marriage. Marriage with songs, marriage with inspiration, marriage with smell of hair, lips, it’s a marriage and still undefined. We sang together ‘Imagine’…embraced in spring. I love that delusion that bridges over troubled water. Unless that urge, that dream and that longing, what’s the value in a song? And the same way when kisses are transplanted deep inside lips not for the sake of trace, but for the sake of names uncalled for. Love is not a metaphor or feeling of us, we are the metaphor of love. After the song she pulled her ring out and it’s now in my finger. Melt, melt, and melt further…unless you can be dissolved in ether. Your body is singing in chorus with the float. And I’m seeing myself as a priest who never touched the mirror…there’s no print of my finger on the mirror, and yet mirror knows the secret. I saw everything, and I touched the distance, to make it like a string in the arrow…the more tensed the string, the better is imagination in one...

The flower grew in Venus Water was as calm as silence The door opened in birthday And showed the ocean trembling The butterfly came from the body Trees grew and opened the lips Cloud came and leaned against the eyes And twilight came and dropped on the hair And nature as clueless as a mirror Observed the melt in the dusk Where sky fathom deep into her womb To find where life starts And in intoxication I woke To walk down to the eyes That is the gate to the garden And fountain inside Lips may reward the house As chrysanthemum murmuring in bed A few drops of solitude Is still drizzling after the snow…

You stand there birds flying above When you turn unmindful River stops for a while and bends The moment passes into your eyes And you, with the tree, spreading branches Felt the wind, it is coming from And there is a rock your hands upon it Came from earth traveling long And you listening the frozen whisper But there is no window to open So you go near a tree and touch And a leaf comes to you, smell is still there Keep the leaf inside you diary Where you wrote, eyes breathing light slowly And lips curving like a river’s bed You stand there birds flying above And your cloud sailing unmindful