" and the one with whom I have some unfinished love now is finished"
-
When the day comes
and I cross the Styx,
cover me with ashes of
my crumpled
unvarnished poems,
let them float like whispers
sinking onto the eyes
making them bleed the unshed;
Lay me gently
inside the soft loamy soil
with my unfinished metaphors
and when flowers bloom
over my grave
gather them with your
unsung echoes and
press them in your books
bruising the pages red and blue;
Underline my unsaid words
in between the blank spacings
of those dried petals,
learn them by heart and
sing along with the birds.-
What’s finished is
easily forgotten,
while
what’s unfinished
is remembered for
a
long time.-
These fingers that
once crawled
on your bare skin
are now darting
on the keys
of a rusty typewriter
clothed in grief-
A problem is like an unfinished file
kept on your workdesk,
It won't go away
until you do not
attend to it in some way .-
let there be no more
poetry tonight
'cause i shall outline the land
with contour lines fond of
men at war
//Poem in Caption...-