The gaze stays wild and empty, half-and-half.
Sharpshooters’ distance milks a golden calf.
You could become a friend, my adversary.
Get knotted! I untie the muzzle’s staring.

Retreat, so blood could rest in bullets’ chaff.
When iron burns in pain, a hush is deaf.
Nor do I breathe or die, nor… care or teary.
The sky’s a stripped off soul by hara-kiri.

It gapes. The kings of winds deliver treats.
The gifts are needles for my pain to knit.
This royal blood, while ramming as a mallet,
Can’t wash away the trembling of a palate.

This tremolo is thick, a bit too weak
To call me nearly down from heroes’ clique.
The dried out sun becomes a shade. My comrade,
I’ll keep it warm for you this heart of homeland

By shortening the gritted beat of mine
Until I dot the last and shell-less ‘i’.
A tear, it smacks against the crumbled fate-scene,
The other – falls while hopes deteriorating.

Oh bloody bloom, still petalous and warm
Don’t cover fast the field of uniform.
Five fingers made a stone to ease the torment,
To feel and share a soul, its wingless moment,

and hold it back when clenching dirt with teeth.
I’ll live this moment, gating endless bliss.
An urgent need for hug is pure, maternal
When Goodness stops to beat, goes off Inferno.

The rest is sightless and exactly right.
Don`t say, for God’s sake, that I died.
The journey to deep-self spreads roots in heavens.
The soul has windows, those are eyes of ravens.

I see you as a well with flaky stars,
nocturnal tars and, seen in daylight, scars.
I am a stigma of forgotten battles.
My heart is pounding in the rainy rattles.

30 August 2010