Posts Tagged ‘senses’

senses #4 – taste

14/04/2017

don’t tell me what I like
or dislike.

it’s my tongue:
i’ll put it
wherever I want.

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senses #3 – touch

13/04/2017

when I was a child, I collected the strangest things. a million objects, from the normal to the unimaginable, with a health dose of improbable. I collected fragments and trinkets, everything delightful to the touch, rugged and smooth, what I could have and hold, grab, feel the edges dig into the palms… pretty much all that could be carried all over town inside my pockets.

my selection was more physically selective than emotional. I didn’t carry a photo locket on a necklace, nor a memorabilia keychain… i’d prefer weight over sentiment, and carried things that would remind me constantly that they were solid, heavy and there. I carried with me shards and shrapnel of the world: screws, sleek river rocks, sticks. at the age of 13, a bullet i’ve found in the gutter. emotionless things, but not meaningless (nor, to me, useless). I curated a simple misfit collection of broken things nobody wanted, but that had, once in the past, had their own importance.

nowadays, i must confess I’ve emptied my pockets. adult practicality goes against carrying heavy garbage among the lint of pockets. age also seems to have killed the pleasure of touch in favor of the imagetic delight of a memory. so I carry other things, images, immemorial touches:

I collect the breath in my neck,
the coffee foam in the cup,
the salt of the sea on my hands,
laugh lines and crow’s feet,
some abandonment issues, here and there.

in a way, everything that appeases not to the skin, but to eye of the mind.

senses #2 – hearing

12/04/2017

it’s in the loudest part
of the day-
midday-
that the demons come out of their boxes
in my mind to play,
and the plagues destroy,
as an old psalm 91 sheet
that hanged from my nana’s wall
used to say.

paradoxically,
I get a moment of stress, and quiet
when the clock strikes
the exact 12th hour,
when suits from offices rush out to lunch,
that I have this moment of silence
amidst this wall of sound.

(overwhelmed.)
it’s too much,
it’s so much that
I go deaf:

all I hear is
my own blood rushing in my ears,
trudging through, thick like syrup,
my skull’s bones
pulsing
in the chaos
of an hour that passes me by.

in the contemplative angst
of the rush that passes me by,
of the hustle and bustle of people,
of the buzzing of legs of people,
of this drowning in a sea of people
stepping hard
that pass me by,
that time,
goes by at the speed of sound.

senses #1 – smell

11/04/2017

i remember you
distinctively by your smell:
skin
and your earthly sweat,
the tangy cleanness
of generic white soap
on your neck
and clove cigarette smoke
mixed with aftershave
below your mouth.

memory #34

18/02/2016

you smelled like skin and sweat and something that was typically you;
like damp earth
and cool shade in a sunny afternoon.