Tulips
and Cheese
one
a
hundred times the pen
slipped
off the paper as quitting or skillfully
drawing
a fugue. meanwhile the traveler
announced
another change of direction followed by
a
streamed woolen ovation recorded by supporters in the antipodes
translation
occurred simultaneously into four main idioms
nevertheless
nobody zoomed in for more than a few
seconds.
and so the speech remained
restlessly
living
two
by
the end of the road they said
the
trees were finally disclosed. that's when the ship's
howling
snore was heard each time deepening
the
blue of the sky and a small sheep's herd
waved
from above. the river
innocent
and quite
steamed as
always during winter time
people
got stressed due to sparse
daylight
syndrome
even
dogs. today inside the bus a man almost got bitten
by
a dog. he looked old and nice
no
one was hurt!
and
their present continued
three
the
air is translucent; birds are chirping
four
the
smell of honey and coffee beans exist somewhere
for
real. while I cross the street
time
changes and gets delayed. the pen amends
the
forgotten write. night left overs detach from bodies
as
dust
particles
fall from cloths – green, orange, red - and last
autumn
leaves swallow
certainty
is a vague thing wind-spread along
western
sidewalks. as bones
melting
on a Christmas eve
your
eyes
close
one last time before embarking
into
the trustworthiest feeling. then
becoming
lips
five
I
stand up gutted. everybody's hasting
to
be in time; to watch the traveler you don't need
to
leave the coziness of your couch. however
it
is required that you face the same direction he's following
if
you close your eyes, the landscape
will
unroll and flow
as
sublime a story would
quitting
can't
be!
©
2015, José Eduardo Coelho
