Tulips and Cheese

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