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 02.07.2009 |
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 04.07.2009 |
1 comment:
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.
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