I SIT BY THE WINDOW

I said fate plays a game without a score,

And who needs fish if you’ve got caviar?

The triumph of the Gothic style would come to pass

And turn you on – no need for coke, or grass.

I sit by the window, outside, an aspen.

When I loved, I loved deeply.

It wasn’t often.

I said the forest’s only part of a tree.

Who needs the whole girl if you’ve got her knee?

Sick of the dust raised by the modern era,

The Russian eye would rest on and Estonian spire.

I sit by the window.

The dishes are done.

I was happy here. But I won’t be again.

I wrote: The bulb looks at the flower in fear,

And love, as an act, lacks a verb; the zer –

O Euclid thought the vanishing point became wasn’t math –

It was the nothingness of time.

I sit by the window.

And while I sit

My youth comes back.

Sometimes I’d smile. Or spit

I said that the leaf may destroy the bud;

What’s the fertile falls is fallow soil – a dud;

That on the flat field, the unshadowed plain

Nature spills the seeds of trees in vain.

I sit by the window.

Hands lock my knees.

My heavy shadow’s my squat company.

My song was out of tune

My voice was cracked,

But at least no chorus can ever sing it back.

That talk like this reaps no reward bewilders

No one – no one’s legs rest on my shoulders.

I sit by the window in the dark.

Like an express, the waves behind the wavelike curtain crash.

A loyal subject of these second – rate years.

I proudly admit that my finest ideas are second – rate,

And may the future take them

As trophies of my struggle against suffocation.

I sit in the dark. And it would be hard to figure out.

Which is worse; the dark inside,

Or the darkness out.

God Bless Us..

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