Monday, August 17, 2009

Poetry: Autobiography 2

Frequently, a train passes by
through my head.
I never know where it goes
I feel the vibration lingers.
Someone flies a kite inside me.
I don't recognize his face
but I see the kite
is kissing the blue sky.
A kind blacksmith wants
to shape my heart.
He makes it red-hot, to forge.
The anvil melts,
he tries to quench it
the heart breakes into pieces.
She boasts
she has eleven vaginas.
Confused, I question.
Just in case- she confirms,
to preserve my chastity.
I notice a hole
on the crown of her head.
I peek through it
sure enough, way down
there is an owl's nest .
I meet a cat here and there.
Sometimes it chases butterflies,
licks it paw, rolls on the grass,
plays with a delicate saffron sun,
then catches the darkness.
Like tiny woolen balls,
sprinkles them all over
I invite the cat to come in.
It smiles and sits outside
looks at its tail.

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