9

Cycles

Viewboat,

After viewboat,

Passing.

Viewboat,

After viewboat,

Water.

Silent,

Hollow’d galley,

Drifting

Viewboat,

After viewboat,

Bypassing

Viewboat,

After viewboat,

Swans.

Steady,

Eternal force,

Moving.

Viewboat,

After viewboat,

Passing-by.

Viewboat,

After viewboat,

Open

Sultry,

Quiet hymns,

Resounding

The boat,

As refuge,

To love.

The sound,

As incense,

To God.

The water,

As life,

To men

Viewboat,

After viewboat,

Haven.

8

The Ravens Gather For a Death

The Ravens gather for a death

Cold wind hits back

Black silhouettes of darkness

Fly in lack.

One of those death parties,

You know?

Where the trees rustle,

And winds blow.

Almost like a memorial

To celebrate life

In a way,

In terms of strife.

They join together

Gather round

Eye gawkingly

Fly without sound.

Cold-fingered Dawn

Arises from afar,

The last time this corpse

Will see her star.

I watch

From afar off.

Look at their ritual,

Hear their scoff.

They call me,

They entice

They beckon thither,

Partake! In our rotting sacrifice.

One of those death parties,

You know?

Far away,

In the bloodied snow.

I advance further,

Closer to the Feast.

A choice meal, delicacy,

Enjoyed by the Least.

The Ravens gather for a death,

Something to love,

Flying up up high

On the wings of a dove.

One of those death parties,

You see?

One those,

All full of Glee.

Almost like a memorial

Together to eat

Celebrate the life

Of our favourite meat.

7

Breathe

I’ve forgotten how the pine and spruce breathe the cold, crisp winter air with love, acceptance and lust fully and deeply into their being and send that very air into the needles of green, solid green, which shoot the cold out and shake off the snow only to bring new life.

I’ve forgotten how it feels to be among my friends from my home in the snow across the sea, all too far to be so close yet distant and welcoming.

I’ve forgotten the embraces outside in the cold winter air, the kisses beside roaring birch fires and the love beyond this loving world.

I’ve forgotten where you take me when all is melting, fading and changing away in an attempt to be more, more and more beautiful than that wonderful land is.

I’ve forgotten what a gift we have received; Peace and Love in Expanse; all we need, is it not? A place under the stars, in the grass, on a hill, in the North, away from the bustling busy bodies of the urbane. A place where time, matter stand still for eternity, and onwards. I miss such a place.

I’ve forgotten the warmth of our bodies, playing in the snow as the deer do leap and trot and briskly blunder through the woods of the deep, dark peace. We fall into each other’s arms and do not let go. The snow melts on our faces, mixing with sweat and tears.

I have forgotten the words, thank you, I adore you, I am so in love with you. Here they are. Said aloud for you. The ink bursts forth and declares them yours! til the end of infinity which is very far in the distance, perhaps never to be reached.

I have forgotten the deepest longing of my heart.

6

Ode to The Southerly Library

Perfectly still,

I sit thoughtless,

in this Thinking Place.

My mind is blank,

These pages are not,

why is that?

What does ˵A Philosophy on War”,

Have to do,

with anything?

Why can’t these titles of jusitice,

Set me, and my mind,

free?

The book-edged hallway confronts me,

Asks why I picked,

this empty place.

Totally filled,

Lonely lovely lavish luxury

you are irresistible.

Above behind

And ahead

White.

This book above me, to my right

˵ The Problem is Distraction”

is distracting me!

If you, Ronen, are

˵Representing the Real” why

doesn’t it stand and prove itself?

If there are ˵Ethics

Of War” why aren’t they

seen?

All what you have,

All what you say,

intrigues me.

I wish I only,

Knew, you are between,

 what I see.

5

Face Lost in Time, Susy Clemens’

You’re nothing more than ink on an old, unread page in a forgotten urban library; one not so urban as to have visitors but so urban as to have the unlearned come and pretend and imagine themselves as their antitheses. Your name is nothing more than history, the past. Your life affects no-one to this day. Your father’s name, work and moustache are unimportant. Your “very happy family”, Clemens, or has your name changed since? is dead, gone and forgotten except those lovely souls trying to find between the books, the pages, the lines. His Roman Nose isn’t important to your adoration. Your adoration is nothing. You’re nothing.

But then why is your beauty so enthralling? Why can I not take my eyes off your face, lost in time? Your lips, shaded on the left, stay silently unopened eternally. Oh love, oh love! Your shadow casts a spell of your beauty on the wall. I am simply lost In your brown eyes, in black and white. The contours of your timeless face pursue my thoughts and take them as lovesick captives. Your hair, full, and pulled effortlessly back. Oh, love! If there was only more of you to see, below the neck. Your pale skin, white dress. Gold, necklace. Virgin, ears. Your chaste, elapsed beauty has once graced this world. But now resides here as a photograph.

A face lost in time.

4

I miss you

Why can’t we always be together

I miss you

You are just so far

Seeing you go makes my heart weak

I miss you

There is so much

I want to say

Time I want to spend with you

I miss you

It just keeps going

Every three months

You are here

And then gone

I miss you