a woman's passion is a fiction of the sun
a radiance that forms and lingers
it's time burning like a rag in a guttering flame
it flickers, it spits a storm, a moment's certainty
a lifetime's doubt
it is the whisper of the wind in barren trees
a crucible for gravity's fervor
a silence dreaming its imploded sounds

this skin can barely hold a tender paradox
a first touch, a lost goodbye
like a taxidermist of time
your fingers drum on the tabletop
the coffe's steam rises like a ghost
the city blends its glass hours, the melting clocks
the hourly sigh of a smile, all that glitters turns into tear
I have to watch out for that precise instant  
when time fractures when our eyes meet

I contemplate these crossings illuminated by clouds
between a shape of thought and its veils
we didn't invent a screen-reality
it was already there, in the scriptorium of mind
I contemplate this geography known only by fingertips
unworded broken lines in tense bodies
I wonder about the lineage of tears, of hopes
how we grow old in this ardour, in the burning of bridges
I nod, I frown at the glaze of time
I move to the center of seeing like a novice
I gaze at the poliphony of being
at our Janus faced trade with flames
I say to myself it's good to decenter the "I" in this poem
however,  there is no purity of words
height after height and depth after depth
we betray a simple evidence: we belong to the same air
will we regret our rush towards the malaise of thought,
will we be rowing over the theft of light?
an invisible will is building up, an antifragile declamation,
the soul's defamation

The eye altering alters all
William Blake, The Mental Traveller

in this fall
it's the sky of the eye that's falling
in the aquarium of time
fish swim in the shape of our memory
my reflection dissolves in unfolded thoughts,
in the maze of forgotten hours
a mythical hope starves the multiplicity of dreams
light colludes with its absence but
it's mind time, the burning hours let go of self-deception
there are twists and turns in our soberness
love is the art of inside seeing
how the vulnerability of truth gets expelled
by the mouth of time

This world is mine for the taking, make me king
Eminem

they rehearsed invincible smiles till the sun went down
dressing up in their finest for the banquet
pageantry and glamour innovate the stones of hatred
we are having the hors d’oeuvres of great nations
unbound myths are complimenting the foliage
striving for a better world with clinked glasses
few faces are sweetened by glee, others by awkwardness
here come the tech giants, the cogniac
aren't we enjoying ourselves in the flattery of folly
earnestly the world is splitting itself
rendering incommensurable  realities
unstoppable