Diamonolog

Moving along the tangent
Barely touching the surface
We feel lighter. The problem
Is that we are actually lighter

You see, in this conversation
There is no dialog.
Voices, through time
Talk to each other.

They talk about perception
They think of special problems
Claiming the right to survival,
Listening to the music.

Melting, floating music
Of Simon and his friend Garfunkel
Looking for threads and needles
Actually looking for nothing.

Saturday night. The fever.
Throat hurts, and you know
Voices are stronger and dimmer
Voices are longing for show.

Close your eyes and listen.
Listen, we know nothing.
Voices whisper: Who cares?
Voices dissolve in the darkness.

Seattle - Portland

To New Yorkers
The clouds leading to the mountain snow
Look strangely beautiful
Even Marcian
Because New Yorkers are used to
rectilinear order

To them
This fracta-natural geometry is a taboo.
And the entire Pacific Northwest looks unorthodox.
It is quiet, floating, yet questioning
The very essence of the boxed order.

Perhaps everything New Yorkers fought for
All these years
Might loudly fall down
Right here, on the 35 minute flight
Between Seattle and Portland.