Andi Zeneli

Featherless soil

Project Room 78

The fallen

Six foot deep the ice has no streets I was just born, I don't have a name Is this the workshop where giants mint Eclipse or the coin of blame?

How big are the parents of hair The huge comb like a tree in the yard Need a knife for wings, meat of despair Babies like butchers bathe in blood

First stepped out of the placenta Of a parachute I felt like I had been here before Eating wet fruit Under an umbrella Digging for gravity the iron ore

Took a while to get down While landing Didn't know, had a tear on my face I was born from a gold crown Smoking the pacifier of grace

Felt like walking, I could do more Use newspapers to cover the old building Plant a cactus to protect the shore From mermaid pudding

No one lives out Cars rust in meadows Bears smile, never got the time to crawl Just found the seal of my shadow Stuck with a mole

I was just born but can't touch the ground Why do deaf mothers wear earrings I left heaven, there was no sound Thin air can't stop me from screaming

Maybe I could be here a long time Much longer than captive birds can stay Plucking one's feathers is a not crime No telling when I'll get away

Project Room 79

I've seen it all through the hose of time I've heard it all through the fire engine If the fire wants to rock Not at night It is not There's a medal in the kitchen for the soldier of worms Blackmailing the widow of war That is why I shot him in the head I didn't want to kill him I just wanted him honoured Just woke up I have got to learn Moon don't bother waking me at midnight For I don't want to know Who the father of universe is The torch knows that it doesn't belong To the Olympians The broom is still in bed with the witch And the farmer does not belong to this city I lost count of my sheep They are all clouds now

I don't want to know Who pays the bill of rain The sunflowers never look back The flames never fall off the wood track The fire engine never clocking late for work I have seen all through the water hose I don't need hydraulic pressure In order to sleep

Project Room 80

Love parole... Soon he was within arm's length of the girl, But the way was blocked by an enormous moon And an almost equally enormous Wheel, Presumably her bicycle, Which seemed to form an impenetrable wall of yellow Rejection.

Project Room 81

I like your breathing taste of breasts Rather curious than in haste I like, like winter likes you strife Live up in the air, light for life Every year since I was young And always snow and always fun Distant places Icy faces All I want, I understand is the breathing alphabet Over and over it is lungs again I hate the heart, despise the brain Several hours and passing faster Breathing statues, alabaster To lift their head down to soil Their lips blush, their hair coil Muddy places Mirrored faces All I want, I understand Is the breathing instrument The tap water, the winter chime Freezing just another crime

And it's the flowers and big huge skies That make the breathing difficult Sneezes, coughs, sobs, yawns, cries And laughs were never meant to hurt The owls keep me up all night Moon-shine makes my hair blue You know I hate the art Of breathing colours left by you.

Project Room 82

I've got to get up earth And get in my planet I've got to work out earth And sort out my lace I've got all stones around my table Telling me what to eat I'm tired of being told what to wear in the grave And I don't have the time to read the newspaper Up in the mirror And it's not my fault

That paper is black And the rainbow white There goes another meteor With my suitcase I've been here too long Do I have to change into a tulip To make you smell me Your shield is a mirror But I can see through you You're bowling with the moon Running around Soft hair flooding the gates I can find my way in the rain Yes, I can find my country I know that you think that you've got the passport on me Like a paper shoe Can't get hats to fit me And it's not my fault Female and male grasshoppers jump so high That can't mate I can't find my way through grass It's not my fault You earth are blue

I've been here too long I have lost my map and my crew.

Project Room 83

Sick of visible forms How old do you think the mistress of the soul is Never move Chess pawns will do it for you I need the sea towel To wipe the distance off my shoulders You think everything is too far To build a road Telling you you are a microphone But you don't want to know the speed of sound Thinking through and let me tell you You are not even close Stop knitting railways Just listen when trains are talking Killing a bee Is better than dying your hair in honey

Remember every night The moon is just another type of pot of wax Say to me you might drink your own blood What kept you From counting your veins I am not bothered Can place the kettle of my hand On this stove Foot down the pedal of ears You know I like to look outside of my skull You found the way out of my shell Yes, the hole we call a gate Something that usually rats like I cannot stay in my body for you are in So stay when I am leaving!

Project Room 84

At sunset I collect beetroots I use a knife to measure the distance Between me and the mountain-hawk

Earth shakes like a big bell inside my church But universe is deaf And can't hear the hermit rush Towards lonely cedars Solitary suns burn their own roots Singing in the west I strike up for a wing One is enough to fly notoriously Coughing down towards defeat Cuneiform of faith and time I use a claw to blind the mountain-hawk And bless him into a bat The indissoluble cave riches, mysteries This then is an obedient mammal Here is what has come to the surface After so many bird convulsions How dirty! How real! Featherless soil, bald stones Deep the dried sea Far the island-sun.

Project Room 85

The great wall of China

An agony aunt To terracotta statues Keeps the head down Never marry a poor artist Bear the fruit of hieroglyphs with fingers And don't lose the limbs in the procession The water channels of Mars hate the wall of China Extra terrestrials Paint circled crops on it And spill the upper boulders with the yolk of the sun Soldiers camouflaged in mould uniforms Conquer the main gatekeepers And make gaps Even a manicured nail can scratch its chest The male goat is the last emperor That came after the nomads To make repair Bats and birds considerably good neighbours

On both sides of the wall Chasing the rabbit has been the goal of the army A soldier even died To save the kite There is an urgent message for the mole The imperial guard let his Excellency know They found a tunnel One day they shall meet To walk the line of invasion Generals of corn play domino with medals Some of them grew great moustache In hiding There is a new spa for abandoned boots Lots of mud in the war of frogs Hear the cry of victory The characteristic sound uttered by a duck That found humid cracks The small pebbles play hide and seek With nuts (crows wear claws rough with handling them) Stay where you are until I count a million Then you can run to the river! Throw a bone not a missile from the wall

Just another game for bored dogs Good walls make good mushrooms Spring is the mischief in them And I wonder if I could put a notion Of green empire in their head There is a crater on the moon That doesn't love the wall of China There is a ring of Saturn that hates The squint eyed architect The fence of fog, by Jupiter it swears Even the clouds of mercury boil with anger All planets move in unison To cover the sight of madness From outer space An agony aunt To terracotta statues Keeps the head down To bury her face.

Project Room 86

What is love

The snake is not going to bite you Poor thing is just looking for a shoulder What is the tattoo of love Sweet poison from the teeth of rock What wind made the mud Take shape of corn Or breathe fresh air Into the lips of a scarecrow To ear my land? The scorpion that comforts my knee Is the cherisher of my flesh and blood The wasp that cherishes my eyes Is my friend I pluck another sting into my eyelashes Now I feel strong To kiss a deer myself Before I stab my new friend to death If we make the play of marriage a success We will go on tour Rein up the hours

Drop the gift of meteors Vent dragons to birthdays Shoulder the thunder With punches under the same roof of fists Not coffin But a cradle made of the same wood Begins to see the light The edge of modesty I am in love with the ugliest witch The mop exporting the dust off the track Of clothes rinsed in milk or tomato juice To remove the smell of the adulterous skunk.

Project Room 87

The game of cards

Good luck to feathers with bolts on them Playing bridge with their cronies

Feather card decks have braille Goose bumps To allow blind people to read The card number and suit Flying incorporates gambling Dinosaur ribbons suggest There was a reptile dynasty That built hell The first feathers may have been actual currency in heaven They were both the tools of gaming And the stakes being played for The four suits now used in the game of feathers: Spades-north, hearts-south, diamonds-east, and clubs-west The same number of colours Which like to do the same thing Sever the cloud link No whiter than its darkest spot Ink or other honourable types of liquids Lead to diaries It is too late to walk Even squared kites are in the loop A foot at 40 is a foot forever Yes, ostrich

You might be the son-in-law Of Tyrannosaurs Rex Feathers shield you Mean it not What, scared again? Fear has made you fat Now I see The mystery of awl-loneliness And find salt tears Inside your egg Now to all sense it is gross Looking at fine birds makes you choke Forget your name Rub your arms Angels alas invented We love the feather game so much That make the dead fly Theseus used a string of feathers To find his way out of the labyrinth Good luck to feathers with bolts on them Playing bridge with my father I try to approach and whisper to him Apparently he doesn't like to cheat.

Project Room 88

I love war

The condition of being closely tied to another shoe Cinderella Never killed a bear in my honeymoon But I love war An iron hand in a velvet glove. As if she were the salt ceasefire I was born from the womb Of dead sea If gossip had a well I would never drink the water And speak evil of war The seed of yesterday was planted No windows grew on The wall of secrets My nights wear black shoes

My African ants carry bullets to the ground I shot through the fog with a popsicle Doctor Zhivago And Russian ice-cream end in divorce A knight on the indestructible horse Powers the earth The haul With my blessing Abandoned the house of wolves Get two arrows from my quiver To knit another playground of wool Kids have not tasted Gummi bears of carnations I tender the cows of war Lactose intolerant I dip my ladle into ashes And propagate fire to the homeless A soup of certain dark things Warmed between the shadow and the soul Raw recruit of fragrance That rises from the earth I hate my body That was why I went to war; A piece of shrapnel, nice jewellery

A scratch, nicer than my eyebrow A rose of blood would blossom On these dark lilies we call hair Crazy heart pounding and bruising the bell A chopped arm would be my sceptre In nirvana Brain, another pillow for forbidden thoughts I love war That doesn't bloom and carry Victory to spring I love war without knowing How, When, Where The patriots came from I love war without medals or pride I don't know any other way of maiming my body War is so intimate That friends chase after your rabbits A great lawn puts hands on your chest Prostitutes become Cinderella' s crew War is the condition of being closely tied to another shoe.

http://andizeneli.blogspot.com/2012/04/featherless-soil.html