Time

The time winds, scents from different countries. 
The flow can be erimaissa, just different. 
I surrender to freely flow up river bed, 
abide by all the chaos brought about. 
I throw myself into the senses, biases, I find. 
I agree with all the uprisings gradually, 
it comes to what is to come, what is going to go away. 

I have a little poem up strollers 
Coffee shop. Time to wake me 
in the middle of the night, traffic noise in my brain. 
Looking for a pair of words from each other, so phrases 
chords piled up. I send this rhyme 
time Ferryman's journey, it can not prevent the coarsest words. 

I breathe the night mist on your lap 
June night, the sense of brushes sniffing 
I eat the dew of the night. Time may pass 
under its own weight, perhaps even more 
rest for the moment hold onto him this night.