My heart is like a mountain barbell,
an over-the-sands glimmering bell.
Breathing heart… A church amidst the river
is diving for to snatch the silence.
A stork up in the sky — the saddest candlestick —
is having a hell of time to move the clouds.
And in the evening, a yellow candle
will teach it how to swallow sunset.
I’ve nothing but the swiftest current,
that’s going to tie my arms — both crosswise.
And it will wash me till I’m clean and shining
just like the eyes of drowned poets.
And if I vanish, let the weeds grow
like hair high over my pale brow.
From bottom I’ll be speaking something
while all the fish above are singing.
