Ali Znaidi
Crow BluesThe crow lands on a bare bough
of the tree of your obsolete childhood. The leaves rush to cover up this nakedness. On your way home it’s mandatory to smile back to the Janus-faced people. The crow is taking over the center and the edges of the bare bough. Who knows what secrets they conceal in their smiles. The crow spreads its wings against the tree, cawing at last. I think your ears yearn for jazz. And now, your dejection returns, a certain urge for panacea telling you: stop talking on your mobile phone & listen to the caws! Synopsis of a Ghost StoryIn the surging waves
of the howling wind that bites the flesh of the sand your music will dispel the thick mist. Did you see how the sunset amazed the ghosts? Drops
ExtinctionAnother green tree
perishes-- I mean naked mountains & plains. Another music radio station shuts up-- I mean a bird singing on a bough shot dead. Another Juliet perishes-- I mean a bird feeding his lover a venomous worm enriched with toxic pesticide. Comments? |
a drift into the unknownblack ants
scathing my skin those stings really do matter an anesthesia similar to touching thistle a drift into the pleasures of forgetfulness a glass of red wine: a "Vispo"
ThawingThe sun’s rays weren’t
always as sharp as blades. Today they forgot about their computers. Copies of the newspaper were in everyone’s hands. Page 3 Girl, the epitome of cosmic aesthetics, served like a magnet drawing icebergs in to have their share of tha[wing]. A Haiku PoemTarry drops fell on
her calligraphic tattoos-- A blackout haiku.
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