Wednesday, July 22, 2009


With the sound of incredible heat and the thoughts of busy holiday life, I returned from Budapest to Vienna today. On my table, right where we left it, was waiting a little piece of paper filled with lines in two hand writings, alternating. The other poem I carried in my notebook, for we wrote it in the Budapest metro. These are two poems Cecilie and I wrote together, line by line by turns:

like the lid of a sunbed, the morning descends on me
as memories, birds, out of the shadow of an eye
lying next to me, still closed
and flocking grains of light, remnant-like
calmly caught in a sunbeam
all the while, next to me, and slowly
rising to the light, two half-eyes

Bright lights flashing, grainy air, dusty wind
the sound of an ambulance crying
feet brushing the ground, warm gusts of air
and in the eye of the storm, your face, serene
smiling from a myriad of screens, ceaselessly
repeating my name and pointing to
that fragile pocket of time, our mingled breath
when we whispered together
and drifted, as leaves bustle, so silently
across the shifting floor of a club
people, as emotions, brushing by
while we turn to nothing and each other

1 comment:

saturninus said...

I like them both, but the second one in particular.
it has an inner rhythm that makes it an integral one even if it was written in zigzags.