" The sky is bluer and bluer,
and you prettier and prettier,

Aren't those tokens
of something is broken inside the clocks? "

[Kenya, 1976]
-Julio Cortázar- (Argentina)

 A lukewarm heft line
confuses the fluffed estoppels of decolourised rumble

Feline and woman. . .
No one could really say who stares at whom...

Seven
waves cascading unadulterated quaintness and
woman's, cat's or man's heart.., the one
enabled to tear down
all pillars of presumptuousness' timetable
by doodling traceable fonts..,
shapes the heft line
and softens the top of trees

... even though fears at other one's additional expenses live avoiding
the modestly capricious ones who fight the grown up omittances...

... even though drabness of unconcern prepense persists in
obstructing the piecemeal viaducts of underprivileged ones...

Feline and woman. .
Noncollectable connecting wire
that sets me present on my own unsearchable catlike place
where bloodsucking greedies can't come in to
and
nor even to or

When the audacious savanna as chain reaction
doesn't need to put its make-up on for tourists or media snobs...
it grows by rising its blooming plenty
to wink at her

Love

in action on many roads
of those unattainable sight lines that bridge
the windows behind which
i feel i should've been born and grown up
perhaps or not necessarily when the same self-tracking flashbacks
mushroom on our way's lap
and such a touching speaker of a language uncreated
drops driblets of nectar toward opening doors
to fill up a long time of respectfulness lack gap
by her heft line
... if one's meanings mean to truly be

Mpanzi mzuri
anapanda miti mingi. . .
Afforesting of understandings
that spryly sort everything out without postponing headword. . .
with full heartwords
guileless

Feline and woman. . .
I know, yes...
I know that hum of high-cost candelabrums even buys guile
and the shatters of sincerity
are tossing a coin for a freshness quoin while
this querulous world in straitjacket rolls in the darkness
but...
whole life rinses myself out when the sylvan velvet of that wild smile
gets closer such instinctured and reaches me
by our cat power at power cut

Artisantiago

Zambezi Times Arts Editor

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