One day I decided to write a poem a day. I called it "The Folded Poems" because I pretended finding them under a chair written on the folded pieces of paper. The only criteria for the poems to be, was my own endorsement. I was the judge. If it "sounded" right, I kept it. Keeping with the pace, though, was not easy. Here I am posting them up to date. I am still writing, but not necessarily every day.
Friday, February 2, 2018
before i knew it
it was absurd
but now it seems banal
my thinking is a world away from living
i want to set my foot into the dust and wonder over prints that dissipated there in many twisted ways
at one am a dream in the shape of a miniature screen touched my face
and the captain of the Boeing started engines on my flight towards the morning
love broke away from words
their sound
their meaning
it dropped like pebble into a sea
on the bottom it didn't find connection with other sunken objects
it feels like seventy two according to the forecast
it is seventy two
i feel a little hot in my deserted bedroom and still a little wet after a bath i took
but it is kind of strange to tie these feelings to numbers 7 and 2
fast feet are falling on the cemetery ground
and everything around and beneath
each resting bone and every restless teacher on a lunchbreak
are rooted in this soil as i am taking heed
exposed to the elements of science most forms of life will drown in the sea
a memory of self in rising waters will morph into a memory of cells
and in the lines of an unwritten scripture what kind of lies my eyes will never see?
