primordial darkness swelling inward,
a dementia radiating perpetual spite
is a black hole
in the self-awareness of the self
and of those close to it,
it devours love,
emits waves of despair
from A to O,
from one to nine
(the seventh is no greater, no more meaningful)
darkness persists
from dawn to dusk,
counting the strikes of the clock
becomes sifting numbers—
some fall through the holes,
some are forgotten altogether,
left behind
like last summer’s pumpkin
to wither on top of the cupboard
…
someone is walking somewhere
I have seen him
known him
who?
me / you / he?
o?
Glass galleries hold
glimpses of memory
in a capsule
at the ice-cream corner
a flash—
threads still in the air
a pause:
new fibers twisting into strings,
old ones lowering their heads
into reminiscence
relation-mayhem
folding into
unknown joy,
if let
amid a dawn of a day—
almost gray,
almost rainy,
but not yet
you stop—
still
an almost-smile,
almost poignant,
still
staring at
a dragon-shaped balloon
guarding something
that needed no guarding,
or perhaps
it was not even there
the moment loosens,
fading into the day
and still
you don’t move
those 10,000 steps
a day
toward solitude
STALAG T IIT
STALAG M IIT
T langeb M-i avatud rüppe
nii sünnivad siia ilma
väikesed sambad!
Kaasaegne muusa, Inspira,
