Her silken silent zephyr-shadow fans ripples into a becalmed Deep.
Iron filings razorwelt soft tissues comme quelque waterborne disease.
Bereft of mercy; entrapment court case nightmares,
Cleared in words but not in deeds.
Love zephyr rips her talons into soft tissue. Bruised, torn , hanging;
the last fragmented “what if”.
Below the waterline lie sunken residues of hope, a glimmersliver;
An oscillation tuned to hope-pain chimes, 360 degrees leaves me heapified , alone and broken.
I pour concrete to crush the zephyrs flight;
to embalm the virus;
to protect my soul;
I pour concrete arrows in my spirit homeward.
I scream out to the Universe for more concrete. In vain. I drop the weight, the waiting….in vain
I swallow worlds within worlds; within pain-hope chimes induce dreams of a trouble-free sleep on the lake bottom floor, your beautiful face my pillow.
Aguirre, lost on the plains of Belarus.
Conquistador sunk by a torzephyrdo.
(on plan to Frankfurt 13th March 219)