The Train Yard
A woman tourist in the station. A kiosk for newspapers, and tobacco.
A depressing newspaper. A small corner in the bottom of the page for forgetting.
Two hands with an extinguished cigarette. Blown nerves. Clouds in the faces.
A closed shop. Police news bubbling in newspapers. Police that corrupt cities.
A crime in the garden. Half bodies in the general's tapes.
Two lovers on the right sidewalk. Bare legs.
A maid pours a bucket of water by the entrance.
A guard dozes off at the building gate. An advertising poster on the school gate.
The remains of leaflets in the dirt beneath. A window without a curtain.
An evening of nervousness. A nervousness hidden into the screens
inside people's homes. Programmes for health awareness.
A religious sermon. Chatter by the post office.
A woman complains about her neighbour.
A girl in the balcony in her nightgown. A silhouette walks to his bed.
A dirty newspaper cut-out. An admirable rising.
A striking-up of friendship. Solidarity in the grass.
Emotions filling. Speeches by sycophants. Compensations for bribery.
Immunities without immunity. The deviations of a time.
Distortions without end. Silence seeping from human pores.
Dead cities. Cities--Cemeteries . . .
My cup and I
I hoodwink my shadow
In Ibn Batuta's café.
Where are you?
You didn't come?
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
O how heavily night settles
in my body