last night
i was a flat tire
it is the usual
deflation that
makes me sleep
and she is not surprised
anymore why we keep
this matter happen
the reasons are laid
on the dinner table where
the food has gotten so cold
and the mantel unchanged
we keep busy
that is the only way to live
we keep ignoring
that is the only way to learn more
and keep the parts of the house
intact the furniture stable
on four feet on dusty existence
on days that we let go
because there is no more reason
to make them different so
we can stop and gaze for a while
and say we love to be here
when the news of any disease come
we do not think anymore of hospitals
or recall the best doctor in town
or whether we sacrifice time for it
it is enough it is enough
our mouths are singing
we do not think whether we
have gone crazy
we have no time for all these
we think of place far, so far away
and if there is only one that offers
eternal shelter we are ready
to set aside home, kin, and
memories
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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