Blue Music Dream, Poetics


yet, i talk to you as is the fashion

of the forwards of books by unknown authors


imitation bodies


eyes an unblinking display, closed signals

of a time we used to talk, exploding into vowels and vapor


fingers stretching out, collapsible on contact with light

we were magnificent, living dead along a vertical bed


now i decode teleprompts in the eyes of strangers

as private, momentary thoughts we had


walking along a street i meet you from another time

almost holding the hand of the other, lover?


you do not see me,

but our reflections quiver on banking halls’ walls, signals


ferrying our souls to the park, the café, or, alas, back home

alone to a pile of laundry, mothballs, books, dolls.


for now, adjustable prosthetic limbs, you balance on flat heels

contemplate new and emerging markets for


the experiments we call dreams,

forgetting when we invented a different language


to be broadcast through touch.

its etymology a thing hidden in the future


our eyes are now coated

 in the mascara of strangers


a film of gold

paves our vision as soon as a blink is possible


the languages we are busy forgetting

our only accomplice.


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