my white room


i never saw a moor—
i never saw the sea—
yet know i how the heather looks
and what a billow be.

e.d.



3/28/13



empty plain walls with one window at the top,
vine with no leaves crawling from the crack 
and becoming like chameleon becoming this
wall. this is my city.









horses in my dreams
like waves, like the sea 
on the tracks of a train 
set myself free again

i have pulled myself clear

pj










the first time i took a train to see you 
after three months. ice was inside of
windows in the morning and i fell asleep
in your phones listening to this song.
eight years later, when she is starting 
the chorus my heart is being pulled from 
even deeper place than my heart.

2 comments:

  1. o olga,

    your words.
    beauty of the heart...

    ReplyDelete
  2. magical dream horses.
    such a beauty.

    ReplyDelete

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warmly,
olga.




olga