Winter 2019

This is going to hurt
not having you
not being me (the one I was before)

The stupid forgetting of the brain
the stupid revelation once again
of cold cruelty of Winter

Birds' notes die against a fathomless of trees,
the colour-joy being shot

bloodpulse
colourpulse
eyepulse

a ritual by a Japanese lake in december
to bring awake the spirits of the passed
and children making games out of expensive shapes

Departure has its metallic taste,
taste of the soul weeping    crying
for holy wounds
to make the world blameless again

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