not everything can be imagined
lest your words become the 3D leeches
that do not really exist
pure breeze from a mountainside of nowhere
it is safe to open the door go down the stairs
walk along the street feel the sun on top of your head
swim in the air of this city dive into the crowd
hear their open conversations listen to the horns of the cars
create more distance tire your feet sweat things out
making thoughts more sensitive to the twitches of the faces of all the people
that you meet
carefully evaluate the lines of the tongue in cheek
scrutinize slips of their tongues
follow the lines of the curve body of the woman that you love
using the soft tip of your tongue the power of taste-buds
one cannot really just survive on the theoretical wings of angels
the feet of the dragon phoenix
shallow and deflatable as toy balloons are
do not draw the street and alleys in your mind
walk upon them and feel the water and the mud and pebbles and sands
to every pore of your skin feel the tickle of the bacteria of the wind
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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