Rome has set on the sun,
Spreads the rays of its streets
And the warmth of its torches.
Caesar commands nightfall come,
To make florid incense and wine
And talk as one full of the moon.

I wander through the city,
skipping every crack.


It never feels as real,
hearing it from your lips.

When you write it,
I’m elated.
It’s warm honey daubing
crusty sourdough
as I sip a cup of joe
and gaze out the window
at the ocean mist
under a toasty sunset.

Yet, when I listen to you speak,
hear your tone
as I gaze into your eyes,
the glow just isn’t there.

I want to believe
you have just lost it,
but I really can’t remember.


I stop to scrape gum off my sole.

-
by Aleksander Mielnikow | Alek the Poet

you approached
our blank canvas
with black & blue paints
trying to make a sunset
out of me
but all you painted us to be
was a whirlpool

still framing it
trapping me in the middle

1.
the architecture of waves, pelicans in adagio
but a tempo slower, the silver-colored fish, streaks
of light, like conversations out of reach, counting
waves, the soft and hard ones …

the sun-reflected surface makes me sleepy
as if a hypnotist at work: my thoughts resisting
this sleep that feels like the final dust of
existence …

starfish ******* the life out of clams,
the weight of the ocean …

2.
the frail branches of an old tree, an old woman
an old dog, a city that’s outbuilding itself, straight
up from Hell, straight into the atmosphere, across
the sky, across the universe …

at sunset, the challenge the sun has to stay alive,
as if a magician at work: darkness falls, like the dead
flame of life, several seconds pass, then several more,
I collect the darkness …

time flies, like a harbinger of bad news, like
an awkward simile that needs explaining …

3.
of all of my loves, of those who were actually
lovers, either married or single, you were the one
who drew me in, against our will, both hearts fell,
bodies withered and ****** …

at sunrise everything reshaped, our bodies felt
alien to each other: nothing has changed but  
the distance between us, always these forbidden
remains …

how our voices grew hoarse, outside it was raining,
everything had rusted …

=========================================

from my unpublished manuscript: Fragmented

©dah / dahlusion 2019 all rights reserved

first published in Fishbowl Poetry, Germany

what if the sky went pink
and the birds stopped their chirping
if the world stopped its turning
what if i took your hand
and pulled you closer
if i held you forever
what if i kissed you then?
just before the sun slept
before the crickets sang
and important things
began to happen?
what if
what if we had that moment
that one second
of just
us?

Vividly pale sunsets,
Houses lined up in a row,
The wind howls on the beach,
The pacific northwest,
My home,
The tide rising and lowering,
The smell of a campfire that once burned so bright,
Smoke still in the air,

Pastel sunrises that I'll never forget.
I miss this.