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siberia [prelude for time feelers]
I was starting to believe
that in me grows a Siberia
that birds will fly soon and all that’s left is the log
on which the ravens will hang like bowls
and will lighten dark.
no, I don't open myself too much
you know
these things come simply from you
and scream.
let me scream then
about the red led that is watching me since the night began
about the powerless cactus flower
about those lost on the bumpy road
because
nothing is earned without a fight
I have already learned the fish’s movement in the fishing net
you would say I am ready
in reality I spin around people until I get dizzy
I stop only when dreams curl my hair
and you are on my island of words
only then I can get together
like a stray dog above a steamy sewer.
