horizon

stop translating my horizon
and never interpreting my senses
for the smell of cloudy evenings
means a bowl of ceylon tea with no honey to me

better not try to recite my lines
cause the moon kicks the jumping cow
and all the dish and the spoon never have a chance to run away
here, the cat spanking that little dog for playing with its fiddle

no
don't you color my rainbow
the bowing bamboo trees demand something new
for mine is white and green...
a little bit grey and brown will make it special
a touch of reddish face will do no harm
tough orange and indigo will double the warmth

well, don't you bother what i see:

the sticky water, the crisp air and the sweet danger
bouncing up and down like a flea
on a blue round trampoline

and i will just  sit here on a big stump
to paint my mind with a new picture
the grandest one



@made in poem
end of march 2012