most never closed
the old door knob clanks
from time to time
cold nights’ splits deepen
in the whitewashed wall

rhythmically pressing my front
on the window glass
thick like a nutshell
I’m drawing bitter green prints
in mid winter

the elastic threads in my heart
are hardly tuning
stretching at once
blowing me from corner to corner
from wall to wall
spread fingers scratch
a final life sign
besides that scream entering the eyeball
in the mirror

all the rest is the same deluge of light
upon the ground worms
and the prey birds
the wind uplifts some dust
I feel a deep height sickness
yet I fall

Categories: My Poems in 2011 | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment

Post navigation

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

Blog at