November 19, 2003
Posted in Poetry at 12:00 am by Kristiina
For Maarja.
I don’t see the rain without colours, I am
the desert drying in the sun and want to
look up at you - smiling through the mist as
your lips curl slowly upwards, causing
dimples to appear (you smile).
Before a goodbye in the soakin’ wet I want to
say hello, jump in puddles,
splashed by rainbow-coloured flutter, drained
by the space between the drops;
I don’t hear your words, they sound like
bar flies humming, melting into thought.
I don’t hear the train coming, I am
the vibration standing still and
you gave me a line or two for life
before the time was up, and time
is never constant in one place, it moves
upwards sidetracked casually knowing
nothing in itself, passing through
the space between the drops.
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November 1, 2003
Posted in Poetry at 12:00 am by Kristiina
caving; carving borrowed land -
hey, is this your house?
i am a voodoo doll living on
crowded peasants’ dreams
of cotton candy fantasies
and often drunk fulfillment
of casual nonsensical sins.
i am your friday night guilt
(hey, was this your home?)
trippin’ over pickup lines,
did you cash that check?
dig it, dig out your sore spots,
this doll is on the loose -
quick, turn on the lights!
i am a puerto rico baby,
mama, how’d you get a hold of me?
laughing in a smoky voice, crying;
i am a tired little red pill
don’t you drop me now.
scratch it, scratch the itch -
here, have this helpin’ crutch;
touching boundaries, snaking
in a slippery-out-of-reach maze
coloured like your waiting shoes
and the choices on your tongue
but i like to cut through shortcuts
anyway.
alice, did you ever find your
way back from the other side?
i am no ace of spades
(hey, was that the door?)
missed calls turned sour, aged
oh, did you sell that toy?
poor-overrated-underpaid-out-of-space
whimsical electric lines
told you - the cycle’s done.
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