This House, Not on a Street

(when looking for explanations)

i.

this house, not on a street
the letters in the mailbox are not mine

somewhere, in another house
amid tall, quivering rooftops
and calligraphy-stained walls
the air has turned cold 

and the moon is asking questions
i am a foreigner in a broken land


ii.

the stones walk among themselves
and all the common constellations,
	named and unnamed
as if saying their prayers on a 
	chorus of wind

the birds scatter
a light flickers above the doorstep 
now and then it answers me


iii.

a traveler is stopped
seeking refuge beneath a 
	sleeping shrub
the birch tree remembers his name

in this light, the house is somehow 
	less credible

the sky is a portrait running over
even the stars have flat feet

13 thoughts on “This House, Not on a Street

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