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Page 62

when i look out the window

when i look out the window
on a night like this
(wild clouds and starfish in dark pools)
when i look out from a darkened room
at the pale stretched-out shadows of the dead
their faces elongated cross-sections of time
passing by in a confused semblance of scenery
and in the oracular voices of the dead
i hear the out-soundings of my own
washing over the silence of a night
repeating all the faces i’ve known
in a weaving of circles of circles of eyes
of reflections of some thing
i could never quite define

like my attraction
to the dark side of the moon

or a song your body brings me
freshly gathered from the sea

g.s.de burca - 22 january 2012 __



down to the skin
mind to mind
to hell with masks

laughing hearts
tickle eternity

g.s.de burca - 19 november 2011 __

missed opportunity

she sits in the
room lit only
by the half
moon light
untangling the
knots in her hair

i lie on the bed
watching lazily

i refuse the offer
to comb her hair

the moon and the
water. that smile

the missed opportunity

  g.s.de burca - 22 january 2012__


the streets are shimmering

streets are shimmering in anticipation

disappoint the day don’t
the sky with thoughtless emotions
you are
                           in daily routine

quit it

a ladder
walk on

tell your
boss you got urgent
like writing a poem

going for
a walk

you like but fast

streets shimmer
                         in anticipation

g.s.de burca - 22 january 2012__


like a virus
back and forth
thru the generations

what country
what person is free
from the ravages
and disfigurement of hate?

i read your books
listen to the music

and poetry of longings
desires and separation
common to us all

how could i hate
the makers of such
human expression?

let’s share a meal
and watch our differences
slip into insignificance

g.s.de burca, 19 november 20112__

                      © CTvM -Reisgids- MMF_1136a resize

mumbling strange talk

mumbling strange talk
he moves across the floor
gathering all the faces
you left lying against walls
in the half light
he strokes them back to life

he imagines your eyes
but he knows looking
into their tunnels
of disappearing lines
that you have definitely drifted
to another orbit

that the lines are held together
by the shape of his own face

g.s.de burca, 19 january 2012__