Saturday, September 17, 2005

You’ll not understand I’m speaking in a secret language:
bird, rock, sea. What’s to become me?
No one shares my tongue and all the messages are lost.
Desire is for pretty girls, hands on hip.
I’ve never been a pretty girl, feathered fish, last thought.
I’ve been your dream, your night’s fever.
Here’s the way you release me. Let me swim
with my wings under the water, let me be the girl
who’s in your veins but not your heart.
The four chambers are not doors merely corridors
but dear sky, where are the windows?
I’m under the water, the hidden stream flowing
beneath the stairs. You need to keep walking.
The next floor is going up.

In the basement of my childhood I practiced the art of levitation
by placing my hand firmly under a blade, her shoulder would relax,
begin to rise. There are no secret powers. I am not your super man.
Only children seem to understand, the human body by it’s very
nature exists mostly of water, it's journey is to move away.

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