Chipping away at Pan | This leaf and that leaf | A screen of trees | gives rise to a blue | gnaw and haze of horizon, the inexhaustible | green expires into pixels and | tinting psychology || Mood? | Washed out | melancholy || At last the starlight silence starts | to fill the cracks | the walls | agonise with rumours of goat-bells and nomads | Whole limbs roughed out, digits | scented with zest, moisture, juice | of sweet and bitter fruits | languor of a love unconsummated, a love | unfelt | unwanted… || Such a fuss to | infatuate the heavens | effort to | lime angels | the lies and half-lies | and half-truths | to calm the tears of | discarded models | so much | falseness | misguidance | fluff and | bubble and | bother | until, suddenly, unflagged, a moment comes precisely | sufficient to us | apt, graceful, fitting, and all the writers | put down their pens | the subjects | their rulers | the lakes | their waters | and I am finished | with the stillness of horses

 


from the series fleeting pixel (series of 1,000 poems, 2012–2016)
(this poem, June 2013)

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