“Own Eyes”


I feel black holes – right under my eyelids
close, crying sucking built-up areas, flirt with the consensus of stars
fields, forests – wield the magicians’ scepter
& defectively sigh
to the forefront leading of quasars, brown dwarfs, etc.
which enticed with inexorable experience happily
unanimously dance into the end
the lonely & burned butterflies
carried on cosmos’ wire
intelligent life forms – lovers & judges
of own horrendous wishes

In the meantime, galaxies’ breath stops,
horizon’s milk pours, spills
& all boundaries, redefined, rush towards each other
from the opposite hemispheres of karma
they meet on suburban screens
where a live broadcast
from yesterday’s end of the world

There is no excuse for latecomers
no one else will fill the books, libraries, evening’s corals
thread a new needle through telegraph poles
won’t send a message in time
& their time will be one black hole’s tear, one of a billion
nesting under my left eye

There’s more under the right,
there, event horizon is just spokes in my Mustang’s wheel
I should have sold it to the clowns –
rusted tabloids
they offered me the Milky Way in return
but I felt then that it’s not a good price
I’ll pass the next city & conquer the highways
before dust replaces my eyes
chases black holes away
with Earth’s submissive life

I prudently equipped myself in a hoe
lots of petrol, gas lighters & canvas
on which I’ll paint fences & other shamelessly weak boundaries
designated by the people for whom my eyes
are only landscapes of data
& I’ll contrast the resulting image with sub-eyelid blaze
the majestic untamed force, which I visually
experience every day
in the form of a solar compass
designating the boundaries of true – those that
most of us won’t see

Copyright © 2012 by A.J. Kaufmann. All rights reserved.