the unknotting problem

 

you try to smoothly unknot yourself

 

– I catch you with a smile brightening up your face

softly biting your lower lip as you watch me –

 

but you don’t know

that we have always been two free ends

of a one-dimensional line segment

stretching out through time and space

until we met and started wrapping around ourselves arbitrarily

 

– and the space between us becomes fluid

as we pass each other by

as we sit drinking a coffee together –

 

and you try to stretch away from this physically inviolable bound

but keep bouncing back unknowingly

 

– and we face each other smilingly

words locked down in the deep

and we’d say each other anything

to avoid having said the unsayable –

 

towards the inevitable destiny of a knot

fusing its two free ends together

becoming an unknot

 


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a storm is rushing our bodies in the night

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it’s late

and we’re turning into wind

growing wild from the inside

running over rooftops

laughing out loudly

at a darkening blue sky

 

a storm is approaching

we can smell it in the hot air

breaking out like sweat

through the skin of the houses

flooding the streets

invading this town’s dreams

 

a thunder of joy

is hidden in the deep silence

as we lie on our backs

at the edge of a shelf cloud

growing like a shadow

over the sleepy sun

 

our breath is heavy and moist

 

under the electric dark blue sky

we smile shyly

 

and suddenly

we collide into each other

like two air masses of different temperatures

creating an undular bore

crushing the crystal clear evening

 

and it rains

 

it rains for hours

for days and for weeks

we loose track of ourselves

trapped in the wet tornado of our bodies

rushing in the deep black night.

 


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I have nothing to say, but I say it well

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What to say when I have nothing to say? Do I say it at all or do I just shut up? Is shutting up a form of saying it without saying? Does shutting up go without saying? What is the meaning of “shut the f*** up!”? Can I also shut down?

Who cares about a blog? I mean, really, who reads blogs?

Why do I feel like saying something at all? Is this something that comes from the stomach? Do I feel it in my guts?

Is a blogger someone? Am I someone? Are you someone?

I only have one answer: I blog therefore I exist