Day 1620, news.
Day's pictures, Poetrypictures
Day 1619, a hand.
Day's pictures, Poetry
A handprint
in a gravel beach
~
the upcoming tide
hasn’t yet
taken it
away
~
did someone
pushed
themselves up
~
or did they stop
a fall
~
maybe
they just wanted to feel
the cold gravel
Day 1616, – – . – -. .-
Day's pictures, Poetry
There are so
many holes
in the stories
they tell
~
that it forms
a solid wall
Day 1615, clear cut.
Day's pictures, Poetry
All the fibers
tore
seamless
in my body
at the same time
~
when you told me
~
it was best
this way
~
a clear cut
and I was
Day 1613, I spring.
Day's pictures, Poetry
Each day
around
and around
in circles
a spiral
till the end
working on my bounce
Day 1609, look at it.
Day's pictures, Poetry
I like to look
at shadows
~
they show you
how the world
is
~
when you don’t want to
look at it
Day 1607, water hose.
Day's pictures, Poetry
We’ll keep them
hanging around
even though
they are cut up
in so many pieces
that they are
useless
~
you can no longer
water your soil
with them
~
my dear old
arguments
Day 1600, illuminate.
Day's pictures, Poetry
The otherworldly
shines
above all
in the shadows
of time
~
but it doesn’t
illuminate
Day 1586, protection.
Day's pictures, Poetry
Looking back
at all the misshapen
building blocks
stacked together
to form this wall
~
it all seems to fit
effortlessly
but I still remember
standing down there
between all the broken pieces
of the walls
left
by my forefathers
Day 1585, barriers.
Day's pictures, Poetry
I stumbled upon
this wall last week
~
it is solid
but also made
out of many
small facets
stacked
together
~
it doesn’t really matter
it is still
standing
in my way
Day 1581, straight through.
Day's pictures, Poetry
I am looking
through a window
inside of you
from where the outside
is faded
~
but I only
see straight through you
and see the tears
on your eyes
from the inside
Day 1578, roof.
Day's pictures, Poetry
I felt protected
for many years
~
but the roof was corroding
from the inside out
and one day the rain
came down
inside
and woke me up
Day 1577, stares.
Day's pictures, Poetry
I remember the house
where I thought I grew up
~
there was an old chimney
a corner where I played
and my father closed the door
~
in my memories
he was never there
in reality
he often stares at me
standing in front
of my reflection
Day 1572, stale.
Day's pictures, Poetry
I can not open
the window
from where I sit
~
I can see
some of the horizon
but it is the smell
that I think
I miss
~
I can get up
but it is still
not to stale
where I sit
Day 1571, work in progress 2.
Day's pictures, Poetry
The first light
and movement they sense
still wet
and lost
gives them no
thoughts
only
reactions
~
slowly
they grow
and the world
gets projected
from this one
reel
~
and it is still
flickering
when they close
their eyes
and dream
~
for them
there is no other
sunset, color of grass
or fear.
~
there is no other
Day 1570, hang.
Day's pictures, Poetry
Nochrisis 