poems, feb. 9

Starting a poem over again

So I tried to write a poem to a howling gypsy woman in my bathrobe
sitting on orkun’s couch on a sunny weird morning
we had bulgur pilav for breakfast
jari made it with allspice, two fried ehhs, pepper, onion garlic,
two friend ahds

but anyways I want to be more a writer again
because I write sometimes
and this is what I am a writer
a writer who writes with both feet pointed down
a writer who is afraid of the whole world collapsing
and with my own two words (which are my hands in this metaphor within a metaphor)
I get to hold the construction up withont falling down myself

and then I thought about editing this piece of work and
didn’t

so the world fell down

 

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