History On One Single Click

When I swing wide the gates of my harbor
to let in the waves of pleasure,
I will think of you.
Me and my heartbeat.

Every ship has its saint,
its talisman, its whip.
I will cross myself three times—
like the most superstitious pagan
who has lost the ground beneath his feet.

My step has always been unsteady,
and as I surrender my share of sharing
I will keep watch over the rocking—
each night carrying the flag of its own secrets.
I am the Night, for you.
And I am carrying...

I will see the stars and the moon again:
vast holes torn into infinity,
the velvet canvas of the sky
pierced by arrows
that missed their mark—missed this lie.

Silver-rimmed roads,
frozen cries of those who pray,
of all who now only scream for redemption—
for every face bears something of yours,
beauty and grace, yours alone is the way,
curves carved into the marble of memory
across centuries,
and in the eyes a wild, passionate sorrow,
the memories of those
who were shipwrecked twice.

Sorry. Not tonight, perhaps tomorrow.

Fingers claw into the lower deck,
time splits clean in two
and offers no reply.

I want fly again, with you, I want fly.

From beneath my nails I pull splinters
of ancient masts.
The sails are silent,
the wind keeps a quiet watch
over the water-world.

After the wreckage of titanic worlds—
silence on an island
where no one has lived for years,
the sea turned inside out
like champagne
I remenber, the water was pearled

In a Paris caf; on the outskirts.
Morning coffee with the taste of a tsunami.

I draw you ... do you draw like me?

In the end, you even embrace your enemy.
Every ship delivers its cargo
to the very bottom,
to the one who pays—
unless it burns in mid-ocean
a little before all new days

On deck, stillness.

irrelevant quiry,
my handwritten diary,
history on one single click.

Only toward dawn does the fog grow thick.

Every ship
sails under the flag of its own secrets.