City Without a Name of Winter


Watching the crowds in their dark jackets
I can tell that winter is on its way
There are no grey laurels left
We just wait for first snow
It will seem beautiful then, novel

As it traces our footsteps
In a frothy whiteness of magical grafts
Marrying concrete with the skies
You will have parts of the world
Unmelted by sunrise, just a snow-covered

Precipice of cold, we endure this
With a voluntary patrol of visible breath
Under my breast and belly I feel grateful
To have a woman at my fire
It’s the pulse of the earth I miss the most

In those harsh winter months
The smiles and small laughter of spring
It’s a city without a name that freezes
So many people more sad without the sun
I can tell that winter is on her way again

Like minerals that forget to sound their last trumpet
My blood will not freeze, I will walk on.

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That Faith that Came After Hope Departed


I have seen faith, felt her
Gently on my face like morning light

I have gazed into her
Naked outright sun like a child
The word ‘faith’ means
An experience of elevation
To that which is properly invisible
A dewdrop or a floating leaf

The yearning for horizons unclear
Even if you dreamed, with open eyes
The faith of the future would
Persuade you that something special

Is near, a luminous speckled light
From some mysterious source

I have seen faith, felt her
Like water on my thirsty lips
I have thought her in my mind
Bringing me closer to nature

Where a brief second seemed
To last a year, I have been that flower
That forgot how not to bloom.

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It’s Such a Common Glory


I am a prisoner of myself
Abiding with thee
Our share of morning and night

That does suffice the bliss of two
And blank in scorning
There are stars everywhere

Some who lost their way
In a pain-comet trails of time
With a minute circumference

Of a single brain, a gamut of eternity
Alone and undignified
I am a prisoner to myself

Abiding with a world
Without care or vitality
Luckily I have you –

Who sweeps my heart
With rosewater and honey
Until eternity, putting love away

In a bowl of water
In a gentleness of gesture
That can only save me from myself.

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Don’t Hope for Things Elsewhere


Hasty and awkward were those
Human moments, lived like
An interruption of the Gods
Fate always intervenes in the

Pauses, between free-will & circumstance
We are all symbols of the times
We live in, we’ve wasted our
Human potential, while others

Maybe out-did us, we will always
End up not finding the new country
This city will always pursue you
We will walk the same streets

Know the same old friends
There is no ship for you
No road to take you elsewhere
Hasty and awkward you will

Find yourself a countryman
Of the family, country, era
In which you were born
On a particular planet among

Millions, hush up now:
The black ruins are perfectly normal.

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