words on your plate
served with relish

sometimes your nourished
by what you write

i am a visitor.

a visitor here. a visitor to your story, a visitor to mine, a visitor to this world. a visitor of my past, a traveller to my dreamt future.

so,
i am a martian. a martian to everything. a martian to all.

hence,
i am perpetually foreign. i am consistently uncomfortably foreign.

when would i be home? i'd often wonder.

when would i stop being a collector? collecting new experiences. collecting novel items. collecting temporary resources. collecting coins. collecting grains.

when can i place a welcome mat on the floor?

The watered isle-
a space persons homesick blue

suspended in black
a distant memory evolving

swimming across an ocean
to a distant shore

new friends are waiting
the newness of you.

death rides the time zones
forever counting the years
death claims your wrinkled skin
makes subtle daily marks
death is the constant companion
you either hate or love
death is par for the course
a mirage, a door.

Summer flickers the thermometers blood
a tease here, a drop there

Summer hides her wares
not ready to set out her stall

Summer is near, very near
but winter has yet to let go.

signs and portents
a universe speaks

out of the lips of tyrants
and of children

what next we wonder
all silent as the grave?

some are killed
never to see light of day

nuclear bombs
the last word of all.