I fell asleep on the narrow bench,
a scent of rotten wood surrounds me
like a placenta,
sunlight descends through window bars
directly in my dream
where sledges vanish afar.

The compact ball of my body
wraps up the past
like Ariadne’s thread.
I roll over,
lost in time traveler,
the compass rose points
to the North of music,
ocean herbs vibrate in the depths.

One song ends slowly
in the leaves melted by light,
seconds are tuned once again,
fresh inside vegetal hourglasses.

And I must awake like a child
among tender blades of grass.

Categories: My Poems in 2009 | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment

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