murmurimg in the bedsitter

B. must have found an article

in the ‘wiener zeitung’ she reads

aloud…i think…

in my half-sleep-state between

a dream about freedom

i have felt once in my life –

on the greek isles –

and now i woke with a vision

of a painting i’ve done about my

favourite theme/ elective affinity/

as for members of a family

where one feels to belong

where one is welcome

where one has found a home.

perhaps it’s questioned in a dream

the conscious that works out

thru’ its sister-subconscious

all pros and cons of our emotional

existence –

how often…

the poet wakes and yawns

a late movie and interview with

charlize made him sleep longer

it must have …

“i’m sorry i woke you…” the next

door neighbour’s voice sounds/

and now Z realizes A who talks to

B about lakes in Austria and about

Their different colouring…

“it’s ok i murmur/ having sent the

poet to brew me sencha tea/

i have overslept the poet’s voice

fills the kitchen – I’ve drunk some

hemp-tea at night

it makes me sleep well and dream-

A smiles. “i have to go and make

macha tea for myself.”

“what’s that? B asks.

“it’s a japanese tea.”

“you both with your teas…I’ll have

coffee ”she said.

Z follows the poet and slips into

his creative skin as soon as he enters

his artistic kitchen-domain.

he sips tea and writes a stanza he

recalls –

when will the skies be

clear again?”




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