So this is how it goes,
you fly into the ocean,
I stand on the shoulder of the wind
while someone pulls down the sky onto the earth.

Sometimes you keep your wings on the shore
and follow the dolphins.
A few seagulls try out your wings
when they scour the coast at the break of dawn.
Most feed on crustaceans who had swum with you.

From my vantage point I see
people tying themselves to anchors,
people dusting off the desert sand in their hair,
talking with roses,
trading their armour for mandolins.

While you touch the ocean bed,
swim between the reefs,
and dive into the trenches,
the gypsies set sail at the docks.
They break their shadows
and dissolve them in the sea
one fragment at a time.

My wind-chariot hits a cloud
and we burst into rain
pouring into the ocean.

And in the waters of the ocean we mingle,
the melting shadows,
the wandering you,
and the pouring me.

Only time will tell
if the ocean will weave us
into one,
or if we will stay suspended in chaos
like a colloid.



Tears met hammers
And the two waltzed
to a beat neither knew,
Feet dragging themselves,
often colliding with each other
As they groped for space.

They drifted to a corner
Like paper swept by the wind
and reminisced of times gone by
when feet had tongues,
hands had ears,
and eyes locked in the brilliance of a million suns.

One summer, they rode their bicycles onto a patch of snow.

In the winter, they stepped down from their cloud.

Today they stand on islands
The hug disentangled,
roads unwound.

The cloud has settled above another city.