My moon

evading

failed

waves

don’t want to ride this time

sigh…

 

read some lines I wrote before the summer

you made my life sparkle in the mud.

 

shine

not taking anything from anyone

just shine, that is okay

well,

thanks for telling me that.

 

what I have pursued in my life might not be the right one for me

maybe I am losing the world and I am losing the people

maybe I am losing the valuable things that I am supposed to keep

maybe I released my grip too hastily to reach for nothing; the unworthy

but this is me; sad and stupid me. I couldn’t dissolve me into the timid water, called “supposed to”.

 

the moon every night different; ever changing but never evolving.

close or far,

you are there

gazing my presence

with your calm luminance; in the dark.

 

A day

jungle…

loved Kusadasi,

met J’s dad by chance, really by chance?

suddenly people are too close,

need some breathing room.

 

Hrabal…

does it matter?

hopes for hope

people forget

the wonderful stupidity that makes people alive.

 

desire…

like the moon

only full for a moment

then,

wane.

 

you still there?

take me home

put me to sleep

the ultimate surrender

on your lap.

 

the warmth…

to my journey into the night,

curling up,

dessicating my existence

like those petals on your bookshelf.

 

The birds ate my crumbs

eagle

my dog snores nowadays.

he is right behind my chair sleeping; I can’t move.

hook

the moon was beautiful last night.

I wonder if I ever snore.

grip

I want some sweets.

still sitting.

Hansel and Gretel

the birds ate my crumbs.

I lost the thread.

nails

the oven door is broken

it rained all day.

imprint

I changed my scent.

the disguised animal instinct; with fragrance.

fall

did I fly?

I drove my son to Buffalo Wild Wings.

soar

….

up to the pink clouds

look at me, look at me.

sing

the soaked words

I love them too much.

checkpoint

soon the season of boots

up to ankles, up to knees, up to nose

lies

the swarm of bees

honey is too sweet not to be stolen

soul

nobody buys

even devil isn’t interested in any more.

spin

the world, the days, the spoon

we should eat somehow

snore

the sun down, no moon tonight.

sweet dreams that can never be taken.

Freud

what are you saying?

don’t put the psycho-chopsticks into the sacred.

sink

deep into the night.

the bed, the warmth, the memory.

timeless

the windows that poured the light in.

I lost the world in that space.

solid

get back to my Ashley.

I’ll write again and again until she truly dies.

trivial

those things grab my heart.

I treasure them.

undiscernible

driving in the fog

to the bottomless mumbles.

morning

surely it will come.

will it?

 

<Septmeber 5th, 2017>

 

 

My Precious

Now I have to go to the bank and open my safety deposit box. And I should take out the notebook I put before the summer. Most people would laugh at me keeping a notebook in the safety deposit box in the bank and hide the key deep in my drawer where no one can find it in case something happens to me and I am unable to reach my notes. They would perish in the dark rectangle under the suffocating smell of the metal. I often think the scenario of my death without letting know anyone about the presence of my safe in the bank. And I think that it doesn’t matter anyway because there is no cash, no gold, no jewelry in that box, except the sad pieces of me bound in the spiral coil. But they are my precious and beauty that I am not sharing with anyone.

Fading away

My eyesight is getting bad fast.

One eye is near-sighted and the other is far-sighted. So the visions of my eyes are moving in the opposite directions. It is inconvenient for me in the everyday life. Still, I can drive and read without the glasses. But it gets blurrier and blurrier. I feel a certain kind of stuffiness from my mashed up views that my eyes provide.

At times, I want to see the details of something or someone. But I just accept the views that my eyes allow and contain them inside me as best as I can. I used to feel a keen pang of the loss. Not the materialistic loss but the loss of the small things. The details of certain moments. A piece of mystic puzzles in my life. A brief smile. A flickering moment when the two sets of eyes met. The things scattered that couldn’t be recovered.

But as my vision is getting worse, I am starting to let go of the things; the things done but slipped in my mind; the things undone but clung to my heart. I am getting old.

The cyclamen flowers on my desk bloom, fade, and wither. I cut the flower stems that lost their hue and hung low. I am fading. And the things I want to hold in my heart also fade away.

Too far or too near. I can’t see both.

I miss the things that I don’t remember

“I have a grand memory of forgetting.”
– Robert Louis Stevenson –

On my visit to my friend’s office who moved overseas, I found one of my favorite photographs of the Adriatic sea on the wall that I had taken and printed on the plexiglass for her before. I forgot about it. Totally forgot.

I forgot many things. I miss those things that start to disappear from my brain. I want to run and catch them and put them in the deep drawer of my memory cabinet, labeled “shouldn’t forget”, but the things are fleeting at the speed I can’t keep up. The only thing I do is that I really miss them without knowing what I have lost. Really really miss them…

Turning the page

Weirdly, everything felt as the past. As if she released the grip she held so tight not to lose; not to lose the pain, not to lose the beauty, not to lose the moments, not to lose a single breath.

A peace, even momentary it may be, landed. A chapter ended. She is not dead yet so there will be another. And she will write with the care, with the full consciousness, calm and grounded.

The outer world will shriek again. Tremble and shake. The ground stepping on will crumble under her feet. Again and again. She knows it will. She will be desperate and cry alone at night. All day. But this will come again. A piece of peace, like a slender feather lands in silence.