POET’S TOMB

 

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When I was born
I was nameless
like a water molecule
But right away I was fed vowels mouth-to-mouth
consonants tickled my ears
I was called and
pulled away from the cosmos
(…)

I would have loved to lose words
to be a tree singing in the wind
I would have loved to be a cloud from a hundred thousand years ago
I would have loved to be a whale’s song
Now I go back to being nameless
with dirt over my eyes, my ears and my mouth
with stars leading me by the fingers.

EPITAPH FOR “POET’S TOMB”, SHUNTARO TANIKAWA.
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For a Friend

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Tuesday, 3rd of October 2017

Fall arrived into a disappearing Summer, there is a terminus for everything but I keep going, following the traces left by the angels and the white butterflies. The flowers are withered, rain hasn’t been falling, so they faded, they faded into you. Should I replace the rain with my tears so they can bloom again? So you can be content again? Or should I wait, be hopeful … trust with patient that every terminus will encounter a beginning?