the floor

Where I have my tarot cards,

my laptop,

and apparently all the wine

in the state,

locked up inside my throat.

I am a rambling maniac,

afraid of sleep, afraid to

wake,

suffocating myself

with my own pillows,

in remote landscapes of

infertile carpets and

cardboard boxes.

Is there anything that

satiates me?

Or is this all the condemning

salvation I have left?

30 Comments

  1. In reference to your recent Merlot night? 🙂

    Was wondering what the cardboard boxes were doing there. I would have used them to build a castle fort, but perhaps you use them for other things.

  2. thank you for putting words to an experience i feel close to, as well. oh, the nights i’ve spent with my cards and my laptop and my distractions on the ground…

  3. Incredible piece. Maybe even my favorite yet. I especially loved this ending:

    “Is there anything that
    satiates me?
    Or is this all the condemning
    salvation I have left?”

    I am familiar with these thoughts…

  4. Such great lines.
    “all the wine
    in the state,
    locked up inside my throat.
    &
    suffocating myself
    with my own pillows,
    in remote landscapes of
    infertile carpets”

  5. Tarot cards…love them, have about fifty different packs I think…do you have a favourite version/artistry? Wonderful poem too, as always, of course, but the opening topic also caught my eye! 🙂

  6. No Sufi there is no extinguishing of your thirst
    You must keep drinking and carry the burden first
    Of your purity and love and soul
    It is overwhelmingly full and yet empty
    So then where is you stick and a bowl
    Ask the passerby reader to fill it
    Then try to patch this insignificantly finitely big hole
    Yet filling it makes you feel empty
    This is you Sufi
    There is no thirst you can satiate
    🙂

Love you, too

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