wandering in the desert, looking for that
which would quench my thirst
I came upon a patch of imagination
resting beneath the azure blue...
interspersed with the mirage,
palm trees, gazelles,
pockets of acrid memory
encased in throats of parch,
swallowed visions crawled they
upon the sands,
littered they the landscape
of my mind
with the stench of passing,
still some creatures remained
savoring drops from blades
of scented glass,
drops of blood
like those I remember tasting,
falling now from my brow
how I wonder did they give rise
to buds of thought,
present, past and
of where was the future
and how did I fit within this frame,
a title without a name, yet,
strangely always the same, painted
dreams colliding with silent screams,
violent vistas turning heads around
until the clock, counter-wise
returned to from whence it came,
still wandering in the desert,
I’m searching for that
which would satisfy my thirst,
for that which might be able
to turn my world
around.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem