Saturday, December 11, 2010

a sputnik descending in my mind
into a sour moon 
dipped in my childhood memories of 
mercury magic
but swarmed by sequences of numbers
meaningful only for some 
impossibly sharp minds
sitting in their sofas 
watching coldly raising waves 
of randomness and false patterns
yet the only thing i hear
is a weak signal
and waves breaking on
my memories of a yellow nylon ball
imitating that sour moon