In Poems It Always Looks Different

/, Blesok no. 58/In Poems It Always Looks Different

In Poems It Always Looks Different

Later
Did I Ask For Something
An Imprint of the Pen
Porgy & Bess Band
The Infinitive

Whatever I touch,
time touches me.
As well as patience, care,

intolerable closeness.
Soft objects become
characteristics, while characteristics become matter.

Only matter.
In my notebook, I suddenly
wake up like a supple hand,

or, more precisely – a motion. I wake up
in fluid. Like
a melody that echoes in

sleeping newlyweds’ room.
I float and exist always
escaping. Because I am a sigh.

Just think how good
nature is to change me like
money. When in each

of my grains it sees consistence,
devotion. Precisely:
consistence and devotion.

Translated by: Miljenko Kovačiček

AuthorZvonko Maković
2018-08-21T17:23:04+00:00 February 25th, 2008|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 58|0 Comments