(from the moon series)
I am in a million photographs
of people I don't know.
Will I live forever?
Settled behind mirror water
pondering lives long since gone.
Trying to imagine the unimaginable,
a ripple amongst ripples, a single
carving amongst millions.
I have a mouth I don't use,
the walls are made of ears
that speak a different language.
I watch lips touch, cameras
flash, the shoes, the memories.
I am here and all this will be gone,
by bomb or nature, the columns
can not stand the weight of another
sultan, this time, snapping pics
at no one at all.
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Mad Moon Over Mehringdamm
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This is great!
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