as for me,
I would stop at this month.
watch your eyes move as you dream,
measure your eyelashes’ length,
and silently dance with the rhythm of your heart.
such small lips…
but your life is your life.
so if I choose to paint you,
I won’t photograph you!
I’ll photograph the trail that the shadows of your atoms leave as you paint.
you are blessed!
you don’t need that
to do this.
I’ve seen from the window
where my being resides
and saw nothing;
just silhouettes, shadows, mirages…
a trick or two.
but never a thing that seemed just as it seemed;
nothing that made sense for more than a glimpse
of what a human being would call a lifetime…
then I was tricked, again!
“Everything is alright!
There’s beauty in sadness,
there’s beauty in closing one’s eyes.”
and the more it takes
the harder everything becomes:
and the leaf grows:
sometimes in sex legs
sometimes in four
sometimes in two
just so it can tell, something–
to something that tomorrow might be there.
it is, and I am not afraid of anything;
but the crumbling of reason, lack of logic, organised ideologies,
but we’re free.