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Poetry


 

My Poetry

Portfolio

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Poetry


 

My Poetry

Portfolio

Watery Poems


all-i-can-do-is-cry

All I Can Do

all I can do is cry

my hands
are eyes, and they weep
on all I make

my feet
are eyes, and as they see their familiar path
my footprints are puddles of brine

all I can do is cry

my thoughts
are eyes, and when I think
of myself crying
I cry
thoughtfully

*

Vinski Valos –The Sidewalk Scribe
May 2017, Berlin



waves.jpg

Waves of Travel

The tide
of travel
washes over my feet,
erodes the sand under my soles
Endless waves of novelty
break before me
in hypnotizing surf.

They wet my ankles with cool pleasure
and retract,
each in unique variations,
yet always akin,
city after city, summit after summit, forest after forest.

My feet have sunk into the sand so deep
I’ve lost the feel of them.

Always another cool to wrap my ankles,
another mesmerizing net of foam
keep me transfixed in travel,
sinking deeper into the comforting sand,
gazing into the empty ocean of possibility.

Yet, why don’t I
un-numb my feet,
unearth my activity

turn
my back to the ocean
and walk

where
my footprints
aren’t washed away.

*

Vinski Valos –The Sidewalk Scribe
Oct. 2016, Santa Barbara, CA


rain.jpg

Eroded concave

Blindfolded
I cast down my cold caresses
like rain

Will you receive my
gray tendresse?

I cast down my cold caresses
wherever I reach
behind my clouded eyes

My dank fingers pet your stony skin.
Indifferent,
I run them through the hair of a passer-by,
I drip down their back,
making them shiver and cringe

Why do you obsess?
Let it trickle, let it flow

You cherish my drops
like a puddle.

Why do you obsess?
You have to let it trickle

Let my touch trickle down your spine
let it find the grooviest path, seep
into your crevices
Let my touch follow your outlines,
stroke your surfaces

In panic
You cling,
squeeze my fingers,
press till your knuckles dry

You’re clogged,
eroded concave.

I rain down my cold caresses
like rain

There will be another who lets my fingers seep
through the fissures of their skin
to the fleshy inside
envelope their seed and let it grow

you’re a hardened slab

*

Vinski Valos –The Sidewalk Scribe
June, 2015, Berlin