The Clock

Hi mom,

the water is still boiling on the stove,

those magazine cutouts are still lying on the living room table,

scissors half open,

the dust collects around the pictures on the wall.

The tin foil wraps the leftover cake,

the hangers still hold some worn-out clothes,

we can still stumble over the wires in the bedroom

where the TV lies still on,

and cat hair gathers on the stained floral sheets.

A doll remains there, forever smiling.

See, mom,

the life we lived and the life we dreamed

grow further away from us each day

and there’s nothing left on this wasted land

but childlike wonder.

Hi mom,

it’s a shame that this place only exists in my memory,

as I lie beside you on this cold companion couch,

as I hear the nonstop beeping of the machines,

as the countless wires stumble upon you,

you, staring lost at the ceiling,

torn up guts,

the TV lies still on.

Syrinx

And then March came with a whole new sense of proprioception

Well, if it isn’t those unmistakable swirls of golden lenticulars
dancing and warming this cold blue sky —
that could have been made with that brush I borrowed from you.

It’s kind of whimsical how no scene in this memory is about paintings.

Instead, about how I could picture a cylinder beyond lyrics or visual language.
These days have been wandering toward the traction and restriction of the cords —
high-definition, like the one I also borrowed,
or loose, like the dozen misaligned guitars lying untouched against the classroom wall.
So, so sad it shatters me.

That uncomfortably harsh gulp of reality.

It’s Tuesday morning.
I can eat a cannelloni, or I can teach the flute.
I trust the airflow will do its thing.
My curiosity could lead me to orbit your wormhole —
I would very much like that.

The nymph always hiding and Pan as in "panicking".

But I can’t help but remember
that salmon-pink central cord of mine,
blocked, flooded by that pulsating crimson red —
as I imagine it,
almost a perfect contrast to the grayish deep blue
so remarkably created by the scanning machine.

Where I dreamed about robots.
Where I dove deep under my own skin.
Little did I know it was announcing the season
that would welcome the new me.