Spring in The City

Ramallah, March 2015

photography nadsat orange

Mind like a flower, a flower falling. A candle in the basement. Nothing is real but there is a spring inside. 

Waves breaking still reflect the moon. I erase myself and songs echo. 

Mind is an ocean. Thoughts are its waves breaking. Awake at dawn, thoughts unformed, (before I remember 

where I am) the clear universe is shown. A spring opens up. 

Mind like a flower falling blooming only to be blown borne across the sky unknown 

living life as if it’s not a passing animal dream, a poem, a brief shelter seen as home. 

Mind like a falling flower like a wide ocean reflecting whatever on its dark waves in rows, unclear, 

unending thoughts distorting the only moon the light from nowhere. Beneath all this, the liquid stone 

beneath the fountains and the road all solid things I’m shown a pool of placid water pours in the windows 

and nothing is impermeable. 

The basement’s flooded. The walls are groaning in the wind. I leap beyond all this 

into the water at night. The spring keeps opening wide.