she weaves a basketfrom threads of rainthen hangs it at the porch. inside the basket she lays her babyborn from the womb of dusk. when nights are thirsty for lightthe teeny-weeny baby glows. then the basket at the porch is swarming with loneliness.
in my city which never tastes your hot lips night falls and blackens all streets are nothing but tarred lines drained out of moisture of rain the lust of seasons and words are dispelled to baked hills where dead things are buried. and moon shadows paint more silence and…
cold unregisteredon the thermometer city’s all drenched wind along the rivershoos us away but we hold firm like shower’s goneand lights afloatteasing colors god why all this joy1971
Puisi cinta Ibn Hazm yang mengandung grammar. 🙂
malam kopi tubrukaku sibak butir dan ruap madumalam kopi tubruktak dibiarkannya aku mengantuk
