OLD FOLDERS

It is passing right now

And I just let it go

I let it run out of me

I think, my only one

this it not the place for you

and you are not for me

There's a thunderstorm

This must not be love, truly

I can see a bird

above me passing by

Barbed wire in its cavernous heart

and a straw in its beak

I rock myself

while it lands on an apple tree

in God's garden

it inhales cider

I would ride away

with you in the night

on a pinto mane of my dreams

A shaman's heart

is shaking under a kitchen knife

Mud and swamp

under my feet.

And since then

I see her everywhere

I am staring into yonder

My home is a stony hell

Fractured heaven

A liquid, distorted mirror

gleaming in the light of fireflies.

An indian's ghost is haunting me,

and its eyelids are rather rusty.

Over the mirrors

In the sky

An angel-winged snake-charmer

drops its flute.

TIBOR KISS