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The mountain
Of last night
Broke my back
 
I praise you, sun
For waking up
So bright
 
My friend and I
Talk ourselves
Into oblivion
 
I woke up
With a tin-like taste of sin
In my mouth
 
This morning rain
For crying out loud
Cries out my! tears
 
On the window
Of your departing bus
Little prince's poem

Order, order!
I can't hear
My thoughts
 
For a thousandth time
I broke up with
my promises
 
The nature of me
Does not agree with
Me
 
He's gone
But he's brought along
Another world
 
Swimming among
Golden locks
Of dunes
 
Master Maghreb
Roaming
Alone
 
Drink-me-nots
Cry
Sahara's own
 
Timekeeper's paradise:
Sahara's sands
 
There's abundance
Of time
In Sahara's sands
 
Sand like time
Seeps through
Sahara
 
Silk like,
A grain of sand slipped off
A grain
 
Don’t cry
For sand
 
Holding
In my palm
Just sand
 
Brushing off
A speck of thought
 
Lost like
A speck of sand in sand
My thoughts
 
Crossing a bridge
I walk into
The smell of horse manure
 
Behind my eyes
There hides an ache
Or two
 
Lingering thoughts
When laid out plain
In poems
 
Like a midsummer
Pond, calm before a storm
Exhausted
 
My thought:
Flowing water blames
A stone

Why old stones
Unlike bones
Gather moss?
 
Standing there
Bathing in the waves
Of songs
 
Deadwood
Feels so
Numb
 
Stuffing her face
With smoked ham
A cured man
 
Feel my vein
And know that
Beating pace
 
Lacing last night
With a sober morning's
Fall from grace
 
Passing
The poet's home
Now empty

--Prague, 6 August 2010