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[”sometimes one unexpected thought becomes the bridge that lets you traverse the country of the familiar in an unprecedented way”] (Rebecca Solnit: A Field Guide to Getting Lost)


The Ney of Hassan Kassai

The buzzing fly through the room
winds a swirling thread,
slowly dissolving behind it

A motorcycle engine outside rages
inside its enclosure of steel,
leaving but a muffled rumble
for the street scene

You can't detect the hard-ons
of the men on the sidewalks

Some modern ensemble pieces
feel like making love
with your clothes on

The itch changes pitch

I wear my skin
like some fancy Dior robe
from the 1950s

My skeleton slips
into its meat muffler
without further ado

I tilt the mug,
but the coffee surface stays level,
obeying stronger wills than mine;
a due dance
of style and grace;
electric light
from my reading lamp
bouncing off the black surface
of coffee,
tapping lightly across the sphere
of my eyes,
clicking their eyelid heat shields
against the onslaught of visions

Nere i centrum väller dagsljuset oförvällt
över stenläggningen

Downtown daylight flows
unparboiled over the cobblestones

The dominant life form marches
on its hind legs
through its habitats;
its innumerable city condensations

Each individual of this breed
imagines itself being something more
than the sum of its organs

It's an invasive race;
an ignorant and presumptuous species

Ridiculously far down my life expectancy
I see my thoughts from a distance;
a gang of neighborhood kids
dancing down a country road
to the swaying and swirling ney
of Hassan Kassai




Fri vers (Fri form) av Ingvar Loco Nordin VIP
Läst 17 gånger
Publicerad 2020-07-15 13:03



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