Two Poems

Dreams of the Displaced

and snow falls and settles silently on my eyes in my dream and snow falls silently and settles in my eyes in my dream and snow falls and settles in my silent dream thawing just as silently, rekindling a fire of yearning: words breaking free from tyranny of meaning disappearing exiles and grieving willows, childhood stutter and promised euthanasia, schizophrenic seasons consuming memories for fuel ebony crackling, my dream no more silent.   Grand March for Flow
Lilith am Roten Meer (Lilith at the Red Sea): Anselm Kiefer - at Berlin's Hamburger Bahnhof; Photos: Uzma Falak
Moon, an ashy smear in this sky of immense absence fatigued by gravity yearns to wander away from Earth’s pleas. A witness needs to close its eyes too Moon— a tired witness, suicidal, dreams of flow. Nameless trees stand intimately, rooted but almost paralytic, embracing each other in all seasons waiting for the bugle for a final march against tyranny of time— a grand march for flow. A dog limps slowly in circles, sniffing the scent of absence Moon convulses in the dark sea of his eyes, whimpering in pain, he bites his own tongue Moon sheds its form, flows away in a tear from the dog’s eyes. Guilty, he wanders away— a limp, a howl, an elegy to the dark moonless night. The militant dog knows little about Moon’s liberation in his eyes My language—a slave to tenses and meaning, offers no help, I howl like the dog, stammering and then succumbing to words — You set the moon free, flowing, flow, flowed. In the dog’s dream, a storm stirs my inertia, I become dust blowing over restless landscapes, flowing, flow, flowed

About the Author(s):