Painting by Stanislaw Krupp

I am not a noble woman, I am  a mongrel and

I  sleep with a pack of barking dogs.
I lie in the cold without fear, dreams or an owner.

Abandonment hurts less than the dreams
muffled in my pockets filled with holes.

If nothing is expected, there is nothing to expect.

I look at the stars without courting the north or the south:

my place is where my body can be.

I don’t belong to this world, I don’t know this world.

 I sink in my contradictions and live what I have to live
with just an eye open  to what the angels hide.

When I am driven away, I leave without regrets.
When somebody kicks me, I know where my place is.

What bothers me is not what I feel. It is what I don’t feel.

Maybe I don’t know how to feel anymore.
What haunts me is not death,

but life with its subtleties and subliminal messages.

My manners are poor: I wasn’t born in a golden cradle.

I am a product of myself, I am the daughter of the tired mornings,
 I am the queen of the crowded buses.

Every day I am crucified by a calendar which bleeds

hours and lethargy.

I don’t want to think therefore I don’t exist.
I just want to feel.

(Descartes is wrong. Feeling is better than thinking)
I just want this moment of vain philosophy and delirium

as another day yawns in me.

Karla Bardanza

    Copyright©Karla Bardanza 2011

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