Zmiana sposobu prezentacji
when i look out the window
on a night like this
(wild clouds and starfish in dark pools)
when i look out from a darkened room
at the pale stretched-out shadows of the dead
their faces elongated cross-sections of time
passing by in a confused semblance of scenery
and in the oracular voices of the dead
i hear the out-soundings of my own
washing over the silence of a night
repeating all the faces i’ve known
in a weaving of circles of circles of eyes
of reflections of some thing
i could never quite define
like my attraction
to the dark side of the moon
or a song your body brings me
freshly gathered from the sea
she sits in the
room lit only
by the half
moon light
untangling the
knots in her hair
i lie on the bed
watching lazily
i refuse the offer
to comb her hair
the moon and the
water. that smile
the missed opportunity
mumbling strange talk
he moves across the floor
gathering all the faces
you left lying against walls
in the half light
he strokes them back to life
he imagines your eyes
but he knows looking
into their tunnels
of disappearing lines
that you have definitely drifted
to another orbit
that the lines are held together
by the shape of his own face
