by Ece Apaydin
You must ascend to my eye sockets smashing in this text
under the terminal clock that some of the wagons lignite laden
obsoleted its eights. Curled up auctioned
also its horses which is an archaic head
Just so taught a wooden bird
you can not determine its color.
never cloister in this junkyard
even its your mother’s
If your father is afforded to purchase the hours
come do listen the elongation of the rails some wagons’ time
can change with you. Wish this from the nature of the text
not from the transition of the rails
When someone died Here it is! when someone died
anyone - wooden bird wooden door wooden window
everything that has a wing flies like spirit
the room that we made love. the flower that you gave me
When someone died they give a baby on her lap
yours or someone elses baby
a baby boy or a baby girl. people also
are prisoners inside a text
You don’t care shredding those and being come out from me
in the fartest junkyard of the town
ECE APAYDIN
Last updated June 12, 2016