PETER ACKROYD

on the third . . .

on the third stroke it will be uncertain

my dreams meet me half-way stunned and incomplete

you repeated something and then I walked forward

the lines meet in the distance touching someone's life

there is a place I cannot reach where the others are

this is my life here, like a stretch of water
the poem is made of sleep

speech slowed down to the nth degree

the storm in my head will not reach its point

PETER ACKROYD

la a treia . . .

la a treia bataie a ceasului
totul va fi nesigur
iluziile imi ies in cale la jumatatea drumului

buimacite si neimplinite
tu repetai ceva

iar eu mergeam tot inainte
liniile se intalneau in departare

atingand viata cuiva
exista un loc unde nu pot ajunge

unde se afla ceilalti
aceasta este viata mea aici,
precum
o intindere de apa
poemul se face din somn
vorbirea s-a incetinit pana la nesfarsit
furtuna din mintea mea
nu va mai
ajunge sa aiba vreun sens

out of the...

IV

white, light blue and grey
with the signs for
orange and aquamarine

rising with it
like Star Wars music
into a future problem

the day is its halo sometimes freedom and sometimes it is not

the inner light
is also a sign
of peace among men

in the middle of stones which beckon to you like a child's drawing

life isn't a gamble
life isn't tragedy
life isn't really anything