perpetual waiting (or: Life in Croatia)


i’m just hiding–

tucked away in my own little quiet corner of the world
as if i have the right to call it my own.
its quiet is that of the innocent damned in hiding
nervous and pensive, steady yet fiddle-footed
and it is not much of a corner, rather a boomerang
and maybe that is why i felt so compelled to return
to this land fore(my)father

that fast forward flicker film
via vile k-hole bigcity existence
of those long begotten salad days
into this quasi silent film reel dramatics
in a country plagued with perpetual waiting

waiting for what?

for an end?
for a beginning?
for answers?
for questions?

waiting, just waiting

When Clocks Sail Away


When clocks sail away in the thin night air
leaving existence vanquished as ash gray
blankets all that the world knew, would we care
that there’s nothing outside of where we lay?
When time’s gone, pulse becomes a memory
as distant to us as last year’s dimmed dreams,
but metamorphose is a subtlety
cached ’til stars tell what’s left to be seen: 

anti-gravity, anti–world, anti-
everything; (even stars are long extinct)
just you and I — a floating lullaby
counterpoint to a feeling so distinct.

In a cruel world when feelings seem erased
over-indulgency should be embraced.