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salad poetry & salsa-dance

…thus riding on a memory-bicycle those people who used to go to pick up dry straws grasses 
twigs from the daily-payment of the squirrels  are neither the husband of any wood nor the 
wife of any wood-apple...at the best ...they may be one page full of must-dos regarding keep-
fit practice of one’s health… 

around the grazing field of the night-gowns 
in course of a long-journey by train one has to cross 
many grass-hopper-points 

one-piece of life is this

in its daily walking to pick up the pebbles of 
which is the amplification of what 
the bodies of all prose and poems are touched with
by the sunshine by the wind by the rain by the water

it-may-be-for-you afternoon is running 

running 
is the people after the office-break

running are the broken people 

the sullen public 
due to late-running of train 

before the darkness sets in 
on bare branches of the tree 
clusters of crows 
are running 

forward steps of the return-home people 
are running 

many invitations has been remained 
unattended … accumulating… 

accumulating…
so much anger… 
many secret pains… 
tears…

the life is running
in the  rows of the flying birds 

the life is running
in the meat-houses… 
in the shopping-malls… 
in the churches… 
in the wheat-fields… 

running … running … running…

salad poetry and salsa-dance are also 
running…

in the letters of the alphabet…
in the swarm of mosquitoes…

from William Shakespeare 
to Rabindranath Thakur 

the sky is running …
the air…
the sunlight…

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