i

i have a recurring dream
it is infuriating
i thought it had gone
but it returns..

it is best not to dwell
on and on
that only makes it
return..

there are worse things
in the subconscious
dissolution and murdering
someone..

like waking from a
drunk with blood on
one´s hands..
no mind..

ii

i knew a dentist
who did the same
i suppose he is out

by now..
losing your guitar is
small potatoes..

when i was young
well about 25
i read war and peace

i was half way through
war
when this guy goes

you know-give me something
to read
i am dying( i had nothing)

here..so i give him
peace-and amid oaths of
return i never saw him again..

ii

i tell a lie
sitting in a dusty cafe
in piraeus

he came out the rainy
day and we greeted like
old friends..

the sea rustled and cried..
he had got married
and now her brothers

were after him..
and then
we knocked into each other

in the red light district
of amsterdamn
we never seemed to change..

i

suddenly silence
fell with a crash
scales fell from the
eyes like fish..

lily thinks-what do you
think?an interesting
begining?
she refers to reality

of course..a horse
a horse..a horse..
war was just around
the corner..

ii

i read war and peace last
summer-is long here-
it concerns the napoleonic
wars-the invasion of white russia
by the french-quite an under-
taking-1200 pages..but something
soon becomes apparent that
no-one from the emperor down
to the lowly peon,has any idea
of what is happening..the chattering
classes and society-who should know
the tacticians and generals..the politicians,
the media..no-one knows..if the war has begun
where the enemy is..and so on..and when the opposing
armies actually locate each other,that is when
the misunderstanding really begins..and the confusion
is with tolstoy himself-he kills off one of five or six main
characters on the field of battle to resurect him-prince andrei,and bring him home safe to his family..

iii

one thing is sure
once begun war
is rather difficult
to stop..

what have i done to
deserve this
(a universal pregunta)

lily moans about love
(and lack there-of..)
i prefer a new car

to be honest-(the answer)
or perhaps diamonds-
to be loved or  lover

that is the question
for which no answer
circles her ..

sometimes the first
others the last
some obscure  others
crystal clear

a sad old cliche
the effing sky
something to love
get´s on my nerves..

how it´s all the same
and who cares anyway
hate hate hate
the world is a biscuit

and i am just a cup of
tea
a letter embroided
on this old heart..

i

as i recall lily
stare off the ball
beyond the spacey
in the walls-

it was the less well
off who were most generous
who enjoyed their selves and
gave freely..

ii

gave small things
made by themselves
maybe..

some utilitarian
or arty object
with imagination..

iii

like children understand
a gift is in the unknowing
they watch and smile

hardly containing..
some what small and
magical..