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Sitting on kitchen chairs - Like a cat powered dream all soft and slow piano fine clocks and time...

Like a cat powered dream all soft and slow piano fine clocks and time running on rhythmic hops from topic to thing food pushed aside the hunger to feed ravishing our minds thought wordings that make you listen ratcheting up the meanings feelings understandings reaching flow into creative spaces nooks and crannies not often explored in mundane conversations at coffee houses pub street corners dinner or workplaces deprived of sleep entwined as each day passes pushes reality entering cycle repeating topics like mantras chants wobbling oscillating steadying with tea being poured from Turkish pots on the stove puttering a rhythm through each day not sure where it might end sentiments wading through the ritual and sipping sitting on kitchen chairs moving to a living room would break the pulse maybe killing the flow. Not stopping for sleep is not a good idea. Even if it’s great banter how does talk smell after a few days does it depend on each topic mix it right to smell of rose or any other way how sexy can an armpit be after days of maturity but all of this gives way to the beautifully perverse mind.





This poem was published in Golden Hour - Hora Dorada

you can buy it by send a message with your address to

colm@ciarnain.com it costs 12€ + postage

and on Amazon: Sweden - Spain - Germany - UK

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