Mohammad Barkeshli

About Me

I don’t need time to know what you are like: knowing each other is like lightening. Who can know you in what you silence, or in those words with which you silence it? He who seeks you in the life you are living, gets to know only allusions to you, pretexts where you hide. To follow you back into what you have done before, to add action to smile, years with names, will be losing you. Not me. I met you in the storm. I knew you suddenly in that brutal breaking out of darkness and light, where the bottom is revealed that escapes day and darkness. I saw you, you saw me, and now stripped of all ambiguity, of history and of past, you, amazon in the thunderbolt, quivering from your recent unexpected arrival, you are so mine from of old, I have known you so long that I close my eyes in your love and walk arrow straight, blind, asking nothing, into the slow certain light where letters and forms are known and calculations are made and one thinks that one can see who you are, my invisible.

If mud is dirt plus water, what is clay?

I'm dumb, you know.

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An American Mohammad