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subject: New poems:The piano chords/Between real and unreal/Between visible and invisible [print this page]

New poems:The piano chords/Between real and unreal/Between visible and invisible

The piano chords-poem

You play the piano chords

In this very sonata as well as

In the music of Prokofiev

Emphatically catching the music's mood

Fingers seem to stick the keys

And the keys seem to direct the fingers

When the thumbs move under them.

You both look like a single being

In together

The piano seemingly breaks the sounds

They penetrate my soul

Searching for the necessary words

I understand the story of your feelings.

Between real and unreal-poem

The things that have no words

Surrounded by sadness

That kind of sadness

Penetrating in their silence

Tears becoming cubes of light

The cubes of things wonder

On their situation of their becoming

Being involved in a movement

Apparently anarchic

Needing a priori cognoscible

Synthetic truths

And empirical postulates

On the shape of inner dislocation

Their shear looping in unstable equilibrium

Needing a stable equilibrium

Being offered as emblematic symbols

Of the diminishing boundary

Between real and unreal

Those things withdrawing themselves

Becoming slowly

Memories

Between visible and invisible

Your reality controls my life

With something which binds

My fleshly eye of the present

Despite itself and despite all logic

And my sharp-edged sound

Within whatsoever limits

And this love of living things

In self-assertion.

Your emotions and conations

Are the embodiment of your feelings

Your love is enclosed within them

Your life inhabiting these

You are the follower

Of your own creed

You need to be

Freed from your own illusion

And from your own constraints

I can see your

Upward motion

Between visible and invisible worlds

Aspiring ceaselessly

Stroking the notion

Absolutely saturating

I can see your intuitive vision

And your thought which thinks itself

I can see your realm of realism

Imprisoned in the identity of your thought

I am the object of your senses

And the essence of your beatitude

When we try to keep real

The words meaning.

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