O ROYAL MIST AQUARIUM

o the sidewalks
o the people in Paris
o the cold, coldness, coldity

o the hard bread in the morning
o the tasteless coffee
o the invisible man who brought me the coffee

three reproductions hang on the wall of a tiny room
o nobody look at them
or at the aquarium in the lobby

o the best thing I've seen so far
were the tiny dancing bubbles of mist
above my head, when I came out of the shower

o metro Bastille
o hotel Royal Bastille
o if I were really a king

= = =

my room is up there
to the left
above the top most window
seen in the pic

PART

when the plane takes off

a part of you stays behind

what is it, what part?

::: ::: :::

Picture: I'm going to Paris

Note: Almost nothing was changed to this poem on August 26, 2012.

ALL THIS LAND AROUND YOUR SMILE

the days of Shouting
the days of Explosions
the days of Falling walls
the days of friends calling for their friends

the days for you to hide with me
in the auditorium of an abandoned movie theater
--do you remember that film about the dog
who became a church for a nation of ants?

walk with me--see this cemetery?
yesterday we raised ourselves from the dead
raised our words over our heads
raised our arms over the blades

green green green blades
grass grass the grass of you
all this land around your smile
all the blades green blades of Easter

::: ::: :::

[Picture: "Step Over Your Shadow" & The Weight by reading_is_dangerous]

SEEDLINGS OF WHEAT

seedlings of wheat
grow in a plate by this window

they should be tall enough
in a week from now
in time for Easter
when colored eggs will need a nest

seedlings of hope
grow in this country by the window

they should be tall enough
in a week from now
in time for Easter
when hard-boiled eggs shall fight their best

::: ::: :::

[Picture: State of Emergency by reading_is_dangerous]

THE GOD HUNTER

He was hunting gods.

To catch a deity, he only needed to imagine it well enough. When his imagination worked well he could catch a god or two every day. Any captured god he would turn into a seed, or a fruit, or a plant—the choice was made in proportion to the energy level of the captive. The god hunter was never wrong about this.

The god that stood one hundred feet outside of the universe and “your eye was its mouth and your mouth was its eye” was turned into a fruit (a banana).

The god that was to you what you are to your table was turned into a flower (a carnation). About this god: Have you ever asked yourself if your table was “happy” or “what is good for my table?” I suppose so: Yes, in a way. That god had similar thoughts about you. A god such as that one would consider you as an object as opposed to a creature.

Yesterday the god hunter caught one prey that “knew” everything about the world—our past, our present, and our future—this was the divinity of All Is Only One Thing; however that god had spread it all (just like music or some other thing) for its own “viewing” pleasure. That one deity was turned into a sycamore tree.

This morning he caught a little god that was enjoying itself as it sat on the head of a beetle to get a touch of the wonderful sensations felt by the bug as it went smelling the world through its antenna. I have to say this: A lot of gods seem to be mostly interested by their own “pleasure”. Whatever! This little god was turned into an apple seed. Maybe the “victim” enjoyed it?!

Tonight the god hunter caught a god of despair. “The sky is black,” said the deity with a fateful voice. “Perhaps not,” said the god hunter, and he quickly turned his prey into a fragile, starry-eyed, blue flower.

::: ::: :::

[Picture: God Hunting by reading_is_dangerous]

WINTER CAT SPRING

after the departure of winter
before the arrival of spring
at night behind closed windows
when no music plays

instead of silence:
the noise of a computer fan
the sounds of typing and clicking
and a whisper

what whisper?
boo, bee, da, boo, bee, da, da, bee, boo…
and a few words
which I cannot repeat

in front of the whisperer
on top of the piano
next to the phone
there is a cat

has he ever seen her sit there? –Never!
is she usually awake at night? –No!
and what is she doing? –Watching
over him as he types the words which I cannot repeat

boo, bee
da, boo
bee, da
da, bee, boo…

whatever the secrets! Whatever the truth!
I shall never know why she was watching over him
after the departure of winter
before the arrival of spring

::: ::: :::

[Picture: Boo, bee, da by reading_is_dangerous]

A FOOT IN THE EYE

a trashcan stands in front of the window
something put in its mouth resembles an eye

I look at your eye
I look at your eye

a rollerblading gnat flies by
blind to this sight

I look at your mouth
I look at your mouth

a police car slows down near the place
where the taxi drivers always gathered

LEAVE THE PLACE, QUICK-QUICK! shouts a voice
the police car is equipped with a megaphone

we pay for that
megaphone, car, traffic cop--the trashcan too

your mouth is an eye
your mouth is an eye

a poem stands where explanations cannot go
with the eye of the mouth of the trashcan of our money

my fingers speak
my fingers speak

imagine a deity such as this:
it doesn't give, it doesn't take anything

it stands a hundred feet outside of the universe
outside of time and eternity

we never hear about it
it never hears about us

your eye is its mouth
you mouth is its eye

you fly by your life
a gnat blind to this sight

a foot in the eye
a foot in the eye

you shout LEAVE THE PLACE QUICK-QUICK
ok so where should I go?

in the trashcan something
resembles the foot of my fingers

the eye of Man
the mouth of eternity

::: ::: :::

[Picture: The Superheroes of me by reading_is_dangerous]

THE EYE OF SKIN

the eye of skin
the body of egg
the land of green
the pebble in my hand

the flower of you
the center of my desire
the burning words of light
the pebble in my hand

trees drink light today
the sky is a simple painting
people walk as they always do
the pebble in my hand

the breeze brings me a taste of Spring
from the land of green – last summer
I feel like an egg both fragile and strong
the pebble in my hand

my skin can see you
like the flower knows the bee
the center of the world
the pebble in my hand

::: ::: :::

[Picture: Butter Woman, the Paper Bird & the Eye of Skin, Summer Man & Pebble, and the Burning Night by reading_is_dangerous]

THE SOVEREIGN PEOPLE OF THIS COUNTRY

Excerpt from a speech delivered by Robert M. La Follette in Washington DC

//I find other Senators, as well as myself, accused of the highest crimes of which any man can be guilty -- treason and disloyalty -- and, sir, accused not only with no evidence to support the accusation, but without the suggestion that such evidence anywhere exists. […]

The mandate seems to have gone forth to the sovereign people of this country that they must be silent while those things are being done by their Government which most vitally concern their well-being, their happiness, and their lives. Today, and for weeks past, honest and law-abiding citizens of this country are being terrorized and outraged in their rights by those sworn to uphold the laws and protect the rights of the people. I have in my possession numerous affidavits establishing the fact that people are being unlawfully arrested, thrown into jail, held incommunicado for days, only to be eventually discharged without ever having been taken into court, because they have committed no crime. Private residences are being invaded, loyal citizens of undoubted integrity and probity arrested, cross-examined, and the most sacred constitutional rights guaranteed to every American citizen are being violated.

It appears to be the purpose of those conducting this campaign to throw the country into a state of terror, to coerce public opinion, to stifle criticism, and suppress discussion of the great issues involved in this…//

October 6, 1917

::: ::: :::

[Picture: In Aparan - May 16, 2007 by reading_is_dangerous]

TORNADO STONE

August 15, 1999
I go to this Summer resort on Lake Sevan in Armenia

it's nearby the village of Shorja
a hundred and twenty kilometers away from Yerevan

back then, Shorja beach
is still a remote place, no phone, perfect for me

waters of the lake have all shades of blue
sapphire, navy, indigo, cobalt, cerulean, azure

and all the shades of green
bottle green, olive, jade, emerald, etc.

nice words
for multitude of colors, what the eyes see

in the sky eagles, dead serious
flying two by two, couples, what else

seagulls always laughing-like
lake gulls if you want

great lizards on the rocks
countless frogs, toads, one water snake

with me a video camera
it was in my hands when the tornado came

I got it on tape
it is somewhere, although it doesn't look so much

but this happened, that I want to say:
Sunflowers in a circle

when I came to the lake I saw them flowers
I thought,: "I will film them tomorrow"

gentle things in a circle
in the gentle winds...

in the background volcano cones
violet-colored, plum, violet, mauve, lilac, lavender, amethyst

everybody volcano asleep
for ten thousand years and more

"Nothing is going to happen,"
I thought

although I really knew
"If you don't film it today, perhaps you'll never do"

ok, the afternoon was quiet
peaceful people, and their children too

during Soviet times, this place was a Resting house
painters, sculptors, their families

I go to the beach
nice lake, waters, colors, volcanoes, people

two hours later, sunflowers dead
trampled by winds, flattened, crushed, disappeared

it came, what the locals call a tornado
just a big wind, but mighty big

"it comes just once every thirty years"
said the locals

it was the first day when I visited lake Sevan
right after I decided nothing could happen to the sunflowers

nothing
nothing

but that was a long time ago, and who knows?
where the wind took the sunflower seeds

::: ::: :::

Picture: The Sun left, and hope was gone, but next to your heart the Stone was kept warm

Long text transformed into a long poem on August 26, 2012 

OK YES GOOD

ok yes good
ok yes good
ok yes good

I am ok yes good
you are ok yes good
we're all ok yes good
oh! how happy am I ok yes good

ok yes good
ok yes good
ok yes good

::: ::: :::

[Picture: The finger prints of Ok Yes Good by reading_is_dangerous]

THE TRUTH ABOUT YOU

Some things I keep
And some things I don’t

I don’t keep time
but my love for you—time itself
can’t take it from me.

::: ::: :::

[Picture: The truth about you by reading_is_dangerous]