I shot your blues through the patchy

your arousal fantasy
is a catch for me
comes in sound waves
enters my head
from the right ear
but no action required
I say
just observe
so I
pull it up a bit
– the activated tip
in the crypt –
from the line beneath
towards the umbilicus
– the well calculated
as if instantly
phononized insanity
vibrational ascendancy-
along the void
and render
all the whatever
in less than a moment
lest the mind won’t interfere
amid balancing the belly
I half
the remaining
push one lump towards the zenith
another vis-a-vis the right feet
so it finds a correct exit
while especially the
toe tip
beside the small one is affected to be
the immediate target of delete
I shut personal sensations
of ‘I don’t like it’
so that I can dump
with a pure desire
to return to sender
as is required
as much as earth receives
air insists
for its ascending part
an accuracy of might
a simultaneous rush of flow
a cause of cranial vertigo
lasting less than a moment
on the right
quasi ready to squad
the head
but No – I fight not
fighting means slavery at your side
whereas your side exists not
without that foxy fight
hidden under smarty pants just
a mystified puff-gloom intensifies
but gets shot
in one bite
ready to gobble the pretender
which I am not
and flushes oh the so lonely
oh the so broken hearted
transforms to a flatus-cloud
heads up and up
en route the dark
skies full of angry-clouds
oh my brrrrrrgghhhh
even they take it not
hurriedly move aside
an irregularly contoured
eloquent weirdo
ethereal space shapes
along the
cotton like subtlety
pliantly tight
so you can pass
while I happily look up
to sing the
Oh Lovey-Dovey
You also have some use
and Yes!
The sun shines for us
most beautifully
diminishing your blues
through the enchanting
blue of the patchy


sometimes you are with me when I bike
right in the middle of my eyes
you look through
as if recreating tides

sometimes you rise
stretch my tailbone
cross my neck all along
and silently whisper love and hate words

until you painfully adjust yourself towards an opening
hidden under a golden crown

you tie us by subtle secret  lines
as if a puppet-pendulum
anchored to a bluish-green star
somewhere far away
as far as a single jump-rope swing
which I may call home sometime

is that why you send me signs
while I listen
like that lady bird today …
perfectly matching to the colors of an eloquent orange brown pottery
by which geishas serve

a ceremonial rice bowl the labels tell
exhibited behind glass only
my silhouette
reflected in dim lights
becomes a dance of invisibility
hiding teardrops
along a museum corridor
covered with cherry blossoms

I ignore I say all the stupid signs
continue a play
with the luck bug
alight on my right side
observe its dotted natural beauty
forget all there is around me
oh yes she knows me

I farewell her over a giant photograph of a well respected lady
make it a living part of her brooch and dream away
if – maybe she’d be me
some lifetime ago
and you the lover
of our lingering sad story…