i have to be honest now
despite the first lie
that after i have slept with you
something in me becomes
real: i am real, i am alive
i am whistling at midnight
when you wake up and
look at me and kiss my lips again
i know what it feels
the world becomes real too:
this bed, this blanket,
this window and the sea.
These are poetic experiments. Man's quest for the poetic element never ceases. He is always caught in the eye of awe. He does not make the rules now. The rules change depending on the emotion that time and space feed him. He must see everything with his wide eyes gaping. The beginning of poetry too, like philosophy is wonder. Look and see. Do not stop wondering You are the poet. And everything is poetry. Wonder. Wander.
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