this is the final poem
that could be casually understood
- any following ones
will require specialized decoders
you wait and hope and study
to get the truth
or the shadow of
you\'re dead when
you look in the mirror
and the only one looking back
is yourself
narcissistic death
with feathers
with debts
rolling way over the legal speed limit
hitting
there is only one organism on earth, the original
sentient one, the DNA, the master code. we're just
variations on a fixed theme, summoned by random
mutations, no more conscious of the grand
i\'m glad i survived
enough to understand
more than my father
grandfather etc
feels good to know
that youtube is like a time machine
available forever
that i found almost all the music
and
it was a cloudy evening
when i lost my faith in poetry
the dying day
was sagging on my back like a knapsack
and yet
no objective seemed to be
worthy of a metaphor
i\'ve pulled out of
for a while
we believed in the magic of words
poetry was evaporating
everywhere
clouding consciousness\' eyeglasses
then we believed in the power of noise
to block
unwanted
the old thought says
- can you see the emotion over there
take it and mold it into a statue
the new thought
is the shadow of the old thought
and says
- that emotion
crumple it in your
truth:
running from things
to their names
you say
and then you buy my case
only the name is fixed
the rest - gets lost in dimensions
swells over monitors
appears in gossip
you knew that time is a vice
and memory a trap
that you can\'t live and think
at the same time
the same way you can\'t make love and fuck
at the same time
that life is an ocean of
what if life
is just an impotent loop
a speck of dust in your memory
like an abandoned city
a citadel of words without windows
echoes choking on syllables
like
a greedy vortex
(so if, remember the rapture)
of past nights flying low
over memory bends
thoughts - cleared tides of timeworn tint
is that a shadow
sniffing at your heels?
IA