Your tongue could start forest fires
With the songs you sing, you could spring winter forward.
You could taste like tomorrow, your trials could all be amounting to counting sheep next to me.
Your little words wrinkle foreheads and cause the catastrophes of nations.
You with little breath bring forth the wildest of worries from the wandering minds.
You of little touch take armfuls of truth and tackle the tortured.
You with mostly full mouth make magic when you tap your tongue against the roof of your mouth
Your rough and ragged hands rust around the edges like the sounds you make when the laugh escapes your raging soul.
You hold onto hope like masters picking up pieces, you could make peace with your mouth piece.
Picking at the scabs on your fingers, focusing on us.
On the ground they avoid you.
You with the sunken skin and swollen eyes – ******* on the end of that cigarette.
You’ve convinced yourself it’s all a good dream.
Days musty like the back of your car when we drive on the high way wondering which way we go.
You with time tattooed soul – sulking about the little time you have.
Holding onto the fear you foster under your ribs.
You with the smile I’d rush rivers to keep under my pillow
You twist your tongue around my image – wake to find me further from grasp.
Smoking grass holding onto the hash.
Hoping you have an interest in me.

All the delayed flights and missed connections everywhere.
Making connections, breaking connections.
A design against futility, still the wind.

Kitchens I cooked in, trains I used to catch.

All the nights I've set awake, martyred on some kind of watch.
Taking directions, obeying erections.
A design against senility, still the mind.

Kittens I took in, dogs I once played fetch.

All the dreams of the past's futures have lapsed and are dying.
Failing selection, without objection.
A design against responsibility, still the road.

Cars I once drove in, land in one long stretch.

All the roads and all the cities are being rebuilt and crumbling.
Urban renewal, urban decay.
A design against anarchy, still the man.

Careers I worked in, living in one breath.

All the ends of all the tales and all the heroes found their death.
Poetic justice, blind justice.
A design against God, still the law.

Courts I appeared in, lawyer's corpse like stench.

All the trees in all the hard places in between know what I mean.
Natural selection, might is right.
A design against Nature, still the way.

Cartoons I once drew, laughing with my friends.

I need a shoulder, or two.
I'm crying my eyes out and I don't know what to do.
I'm scared, not ready
I need you
I'm screaming on the inside
I don't know how to deal
Is this a dream I wish this wasn't real
I have to be strong I need to be strong
It's what I've been doing for so long
I see that death is real it's not a joke
I hate that others call it quits before it truly begins
I'm a first hand witness of the true voyage of death and I wouldn't wish it upon anyone
I'm struggling
I Amber, actually struggle would you look at that
I'm scared
I'm confused
I'm nauseous
I need you
I need someone

the sea is sighing like a woman
and I can hear its breath
of a hunted man
nearby yellow flowers
wild stones
salt drops stinging my arms
two seagulls dart out of my eyes
and fly side by side
speaking to each other over water
like human beings
in the absence of love

Carmen Firan
translated by Andrei Bantas

Penguins waddle.

Camels spit.

Aardvarks burrow.

And bovines ****.

Horripilation
A quickly pacing heart
Mind orbiting the concept
In circles, a work of abstract art

There is difficulty in executing movement
When all these things appear
Over my shoulder, edge of eyesight
Whispers in my ear

Rip out the claws that hold me in my seat
To walk over and say "Hello"
There would be no greater feat
That day
And then
I feel

That the lonliness would die
When
I
Fall into your eyes