// Time off //

I try to wipe off time

from the glass panes

of the window,

that bore a few streaks

I scratched,

In tears,

because mother scolded me,

for spelling.

I subdued my anger,

with a nail

against her motherhood,

and that was a revolt,

 the last revolt against her authority,

before I left home

for long trousers

and learn carrying thick books.

And that was the last revolt,

against my childhood,

before I shyly  hid my man

inside the growing thickets,

curious hisses,

before I forgot a few past

unnecessarily .

In time,

I really lost a few pasts,

before I forgot the necessity,

of the mother

and her authority in the household,

except the window pane,

where time gradually withers on.

 I must try to wipe off time

from the window panes,

that bore my mother’s rule

over my anger.

(On the 74^th Birth Day of my Mother)

//Let’s love//

Let’s bracket us

and put everything

outside.

Let’s resize our love

once again

and put it in a frame,

for our pension

and other official purpose.

Let’s

Let’s make our love

more tight

fencing it with two more brackets,

so that the breeze won’t dare to shrill

between our groan and moans

created in life.

Let’s close

the doors and windows

for a moment

and try to sweep each other

in and from darkness

and bracketing

each in another,

putting everything aside,

as we did in early stages

of our conjugal imagination,

lets  stitch our torn time ,

may stare through our bifocal  glasses,

let’s put signature

 once, just once,

and prove that we are

first man and woman

on earth.

Let’s put our bodies in the bracket

I ‘m sure

Your shy will be

more natural

than the first one.

// Cadaver -3 //

//Cadaver-3//

I accept or reject,
refuge or refute,
I am stuck somewhere
in between
the cranks
of a clock.



That is something huge,
but hasn’t ticked for years,
where I am crossed
as if a junk screw
and stopped the machine sounding

That is something circular
but has been bedded for years
where I am crushed
as if a hunk
and stopped an automation .




for years
I tuck
for years
I talk
and years
shoulder a body as if a cross
across the time
across the space,
I burble the last story
remained unfinished
when coughed..

er..or sighed??