Mest lästa ▸
Ancient Artifact
sitting here waiting
for the light to turn green and
the world to make sense again
i suddenly realized
each hazy blur of traffic passing by
each blasting radio preaching The Word
each teeny-tiny passenger on that teeny-tiny airplane
is telling an epic story of a world
full of thousands of paths to thousands of other lives
in which i am nothing
A picture pushes you
Aside Your coat trails
In the wind You pick
Yourself up out of a
Bunch of snaps and
Move along Traffic
Is thick Day dry
The tune sounds like
It's coming from a
Lot of places in the
Room That's a funny
Tune You are on
One of the waves
Opening the water
Sound and beat swell
funnel of space
dragged in earth
planes eddy, the shaking
cold, fish jump the horizon
slats factory colors
we realize a finish
there is a tower a
vast dome
a dining car there
a sliding seats
sloped down
the girders truckload of stationwagons
a few benches at the sea
or hens crated
traffic island
‘Stop’ signs horrify me.
Every time I look at them
I start thinking about a great disaster
which could happen, if those cold metal signs
with just four letters applied
to our thoughts, our feelings and our dreams.
All the roads within the world of our souls
would be trapped in big traffic jams.
Warning sirens, crashes, fires,
would appear everywhere
in this endless fast-moving network.
The world of our souls would go crazy,
and within a few days time
a sign with ten letters would appear,
‘Extinction’.