it is a new little ribbon, for you. i will tie here, yet not too tight.   it has been a long time now.   yes.

. a long, long time.



thread bare.    nap worn                           the                 warp       shows through.   sounds sweet, none of this plush and sensuous stuff.



the dream, the shroud parted a while. visitors came,                         the day proceeded gently with          stops     and dictation, who is this?            we worried over news, trembled a while, gathered back the warp, the weft.                                      today we continue.



much of the time is spent with this or other things which pass the day nicely. linen  hangs  heavy, needles preserved. small holes ready.



it don’t work if not connected, if not tuned in, you would think the experts would know that.  we need to signal to another.



sbm.

I remember that spring
That summer
I was asked for color
You have forgotten your gloves...

یادم می آمد
آن بهار را
آن تابستان را
از من می خواستند رنگ بزنم
...دستکش هایت یادت نبود

Saxophone evening

Violins, the sallow glow.

Windows watching Night..

I write not because i seek your truth,
i just do - for someone who seeks
understanding in all the doors we see.

I write not because i seek your pity,
i just do - for someone who seeks
understanding in all tough roads we
go through.

I write not because this is a job,
i just do - for someone who seeks
relief to the burden he has not
spoken out loud.

© pax