What’s this glaze
over my eyes…

A heavy mist
with fingers…
that lingers.
A cataract that
dives and claws
into the black
of irises.

A film,
a veil,
a canvas botched
and vandalised
with arguing paints.
And indelible black
that sings of sadness,
highlights the aches
of dejection
and screams
betrayal.

The dark room
forgets the stars
and venus, I fished in her moons
baited the page empty
to be more mysterious

fading into the ocean
in splashes of blue, I saw you

In spring
I planted tomatoes
too close to the jalapeños
and they married

Blessed was that marriage
and fruitful, every bite
was salsa in my mouth

Dissolving spice
leaves its prints
like time clapping upwards
a granite hill

on the other side, a bridge
between dusk and dawn
rocks the wind
has flung open the doors

The sheets cannot be retrieved
lifting high into the summer air
curling out over the barren fields

blackbirds glide into view
against the darkening clouds
they toss themselves among
the fading landscape of the sky
like pepper, or my dark dusty curtains
flapping in the cross breeze
falling to pieces, quietly

The cat ran away
It's been months
since I opened a book
or felt the sun

tracks across the sky

leaving its fire behind
hiding its face
in the dark somewhere
between the stars

~naǧí
© Copyright naǧí August 2016

See not the messages
Lying asunder
Go not to temptation
To beckon my blunder
For under the surface
Observance
Is clear
And my cryptic
Ellipsis
A sickness to fear
But appears
An abstraction
Attraction’s
Blurred vision
And fades
From the page
Like a razed composition
Conveying the grave
Like a bladed
Incision
Still spilling its villainy
Victimization
Of poor little me’s
Permanent
Paid vacation
Upon what is free
Just a fee to exist
And then not just deceased
We will cease to be missed
Like a vanishing wish
Dissipates in the mist
Like a widow
Divorced from reality’s
Kiss

What did I do with my glasses?
I had them a minute ago
They’re always disappearing
I don’t know where they go

My eyes don’t focus without them
Now that me youth has gone
One of the things I’ve learned is
You don’t stay young very long

I waste so much time just searching
Can anyone tell me where?
I could be being useful
Or having a kip in the chair

I asked my wife to help me
With a roll of her eyes she said
Try where your hair used to be dear
They’re on the top of your head

Listening to the steady rush
As winds blow in an evening hush
Hoping that it ushers in the rain

This place could use some moisture and
I could use a helping hand
In letting nostalgia lay its claim