Bark one Bark two Bark three
Darting dots in silent sentences of the night Like darker mulberries On the mulberry tree of Nalbandyan 7, 2:40 am. Alas All this air can do Is stare in silence… Its eyes touch so softly That my mind obeys And lays itself down On a constant stream of dreams… Bark one Bark two Bark three You know? There are Buried deep Twisted, gnarled, soggy Roots of angels Who have chosen to become trees And make Oxygen Yet not prudence… Silence and insanity, friend Are born when we come detached And attached again And again In us, through us, towards Nowhere else but Predictability Simple and charming: And it is predictable, Father That during nights I write Instead of sleeping And slipping into hymns So that insanity would remain Subconscious And quiet Like the mulberry night tree On Nalbandyan 7, 2:50 AM. Bark one Bark two Bark three Mother knows, dark mulberry stains White hands white clothes white souls And ruin the perfectness With threats to make it better, Sevak says That light shines from our windows at night As messages to the universe… Tonight, I am writing a novel For the galaxies to scan Destroying any chance to save This little blue dead dwarf We call home The absence of which infinities won’t notice… Please notice that we are Ignored Yet blessed… Ignored Therefore blessed… Bark one. Silence.