What? A dream, a warning nightmare. And then awake. As far back as I know, a song. In the quiet of the summer night, a song away, a nightingale.
And then the road that I loved. Inside, I have to say. A few words, a hurricane. A dream that dreams another dream, another place. Full of stir and movement, as stirs the water. I have a continued fever. They travel a lot, I travel inside.
Your double n (D)
Your double n, your blue and red, your different name, like children's game. For a moment of course, the time, the place, without face. Your flying kiss, the lost haven of refuge, and then, my sobering thought, the other day, a day before, and then and more.
What I feel
What I feel, let me try, what I feel, let me be, not for show, not to be shown, like a child out. Paradise was made for me, by myself, like a joke, like a game. I came to your place, what are you whispering? I wished you good morning. Take your distance when you need, mind your steps. No more faith in promises or morning prayers. In actual fact, in usual practice you can see everything.
(Photo: woman in blue, © sokratis papageorgiou, May 2009)