Breaking the silence… a Coffee that speaks.

Dedicated to a too far away almost lost friend|ship

A maroon-dark fluid

A bull neck taste

A beefed-up flavor

A brawny sense

Virile fortified

Colombian Beans

Causing

Dizzying Brains

a {robust volcanic throat explosion}

plus (+)

a {lava race}

is equal to (=)

a {burning stomach}

Pearls emerge on

my frontal bone

in my eyes

in a vehement

emotional outburst.

ardent wellness

intense feel-good

sagging nerves

vivid encephalic activity

Dun chestnut grit

left over,

gazing

into the past

forecasting

the future,

breaks a too long silence.

Order Book

a short poem of songlike quality… I hope.

-chorus-

Send me:

your odor

so I can smell

your perfume

your sweat

so I can quench

my thirst

your voice

so I can hear

its air

your skin

so I can taste

its passion

your eyes

so I can see

through them

your thoughts

your dreams

your wishes

for me to make them

through.

-chorus- 

Send all this:

one by one

step by step

parcel after parcel.

-undersong-

At delivery I’ll send you

a receipt.

I’ll send you

a receipt.

Missing link.

A

fat earthworm

fed by the tropical

rain of my tears

invades my heart

inflates its ventricles.

A volcano under the

sternum prepares

an outburst.

Fear for

a timeless lamentation

restrains the explosion.

A one day

delay.

A lifelong struggle.

An attempt

to get in control fails.

Awareness grows.

A warning informs.

Right there

on my head's temple

slamming beats

shooting tears and names.

Closing my eyes

my mind

begs and pledges.

Not able anymore

to refrain,

the world listens

to my exploded emotion.

A million cries

shouted out loud.

Not sure how much longer I will be able to support

your absence

and yours

and yours.

If I’m not a consumer what am I?

A little pleasantry on a growing-up catching some age.

! Age doubting?

! A future reality game?

I’m already a practitioner, yes.

Who’s that guy winking at me every morning

to comfort

after the face stretching?

Imagine my terrified look

with the din of the collapsing

cheval glass.

Mine- or

it’s mirror’s end?

What’s a mirror’s gender?

Observing myself in

shop windows, glass walls,

confounding

posture with pose I am,

while readjusting curved shoulders,

measuring the width of my reflection.

Today’s assignment:

Watch your growing ears!

Yesterday I sliced the lobe

to kill a fast growing hair

that was not there

the day before I assure you!

Only ONE:

Ear    HAIR

What’s the First- Sur-

name?

Science didn’t even give it a proper

name!

A mustache has a whisker.

My ear has just a hair.

My twin brother looking at me

launches:

! Come back tomorrow?

! Same time Same place!

We’ll do the nose check!

I’m definitely a consumer.

Saul Bellow’s mild lemon light at Avenue Saint Denis.

Inspired by the phrase “A mild lemon light rinsed the street” from Humboldt’s Gift by Saul Bellow.

Is it the magic of the phrase

or the

smells

or the

tastes

or the

color?

Or is it

appealing or

recalling?

Or is it in

the words

only

the words?

Not able to define it

then as a child

neither now

considered adult.

The black and white picture

can’t be conclusive

on the color.

“La Caravelle”

bordering the river.

Its kitchen delivering

unequaled perfumed odors.

That young boy with

the delicate physiognomy

-the light, petrol green, sweater with the contrast of the vale grey squared trunks-

posing almost womanly

naked legs crossed.

The wasp stinging a thigh or

is it a knee fold?

Lingering memories.

An ordinary morning

in an equally ordinary

Delft canal street.

It’s back for the time of a

languishing thought

the Avenue Saint Denis

color

a half century ago.

A mild lemon light coloring the pavers

rinsing my eyes.

Hazy encounter in the twilight.

Y_our

fondling fingers

on my skin

mimic the sensation of caressing leaves.

Subdued Impact

of a thumb into flesh creates

Bated Breath

Restrained Affectemotion.

There is an unrecognizable

rhythm in the touch

suggesting fresh attraction.

Longing for beauty

caressing hand-s

glide over

sweaty layer-s.

{challengingthoughts}{hankeringfloods}{batteredsweetwords}{irrecognizablemutilations}

M_y

limbs    - look at them-

usually 

sequestered between the fences of a manga

now 

stabbing the satin restrains

into garbled anime.

While the mix of saliva purifies the

mutual craving

the pumping beat of jellying machine rooms

tempers the chems.

The lost steps

Dedicated to Judith and András.

A quick look over my right shoulder.

It's there.

No_

it's not _

it is.

Must be but

I can't see

that step

I made I'm sure.

Let me look for the other one.

A quick look over my left shoulder.

It's not there.

Yes_

it is.

Are you sure?

Yes I am!

Can you see it?

No, I can't.

But

I feel I

made it.

I made it_

otherwise, I could not have been here already.

Where are they?

What?

Those steps!

Which ones?

Those that I made!

Do not look for them

behind you.

Where shall I look then?

Look where you stand!

­I'-m _ look -ing_

Are you at the same place?

then before you made them?

No, I am further

So?!

I made them.

Yes you did.

Now look forward

to the steps you will make.

Do not look over your shoulders.

The thinker.

A foot supports my

weight while

-challenging gravity-

the opposite leg lifts from

base.

Question-s-

Do I dare to stand on the elevated limb

using air as a platform?

Did growing old made me wiser?

Answer- s-

Age

- teaches me to accept-

requires me

telling youngsters it is

|an established fact|

a proven certitude.

No one tries

No one checks.

Lifted my heel

pushed the raised one stronger on that virtual platform.

Standing now on four toes.

-Toe five is not very supportive-

The ultimate movement has to come

nów...

...my anarchic arms decided to put my hands on the floor.

The Thinker's head rest only  

on the back of hand.

I've positioned myself

as a thinking

peeing

dog.

Tides_Linger Two

With 'Tides_ Linger One' I reached the final destination of des-ti-nations

'DESEGREGATIONS' starts with 'Tides_Linger Two'

If you want to know more about DESEGREGATIONS read all about it in About Desegregations

This journey can be less save then the previous one.

Tides_Linger Two

...

Increasingly unsuccessful

experimental performance.

Laying on the border line

sweat merges with salty water

when my body mass

repeats the motion.

Flood slowly pulls back.

Hesitating unfold of the torso

un-curtains the view

in lingering

Horizontal tides

Wherein my body

folds and stretches

and again and

Again.