LA MACCHINA UMANA

Her head
lay at her feet.

A butterfly perched
upon those chiseled lips.

She held a thin slice
of sunlight in her left hand.

The head?

She had got by
without it now

for the past
20 years.

A spider crawled over
her wide open eyes.

Her head looked up
at her imploringly.

But she paid it
no mind.

In time one finds
losing one's head

not the misfortune
it would appear to be.

Time that meaningless
piece of human machinery.

The statue had looked upon
this same scene

for a century or more
and was none the wiser.

Tourists a nuisance
like having lice.

The constant click of cameras
like an itch.

Flowers grew about
the fallen head

giving it a grace
it had not attained in life.

It was grateful
not to be human now.

The sunlight moving
from the left hand to the right.

I have thousand copies of your smile
I draw them as portrait
I composed them as song
I wrote them as poem

Realizing...
I'm not the one who draw your smile
I can't predict your expected rhymes
I never made your bliss
Not even once,
They are all just lines
letter, words, notes,

But anyways, I kinda need em

parallax movement of the clouds
beneath the dome of now departing summer
my eyes kept anchor till it tore
and so my wish was written
into the cloud, the vessel of my message
before I bid it farewell and let it go
a bottle in the sea whose lips
caress your shores

*

Фоново движение на облаците
Под купола на отпътуващото лято
Очите ми държаха котва, но се скъса
И тъй желанието мое бе написано
По облака, съда на моето послание
Преди се сбогувам и да го пусна
Бутилка във морето чиито устни
Милват твойте брегове