képek, betűk

when winter sunlight swells the clouds
flecks of light edge towards me, almost clumsy
among the greens and oranges, red is absent
I hear nothing — Anti Perfect — though I am listening
silence wraps itself around loneliness, swallowing necks
shadows dragging their dogs behind them
the diesel reeks of dirty second-hand cars: Filth-ville-vigil
another day to be endured, a common dawn
in a negative cul-de-sac, lined with tinned-meat houses
I would throw up out the window, but I’m too self-conscious
so I just sit and stare, perch, then stand
I count my steps, the spoons in the kitchen
I hold my breath — maybe I will ll end up somewhere else
in the end, nothing happens; there is no escape today either
it passes, it wears on — without me knowing what time is
I pass, I vanish — without ever knowing why I existed
and that lifts me; light brushes me gently
from the Sun’s fusion core — smiling, silent.