Pillow book

by Christos Polydorou

2017-06-03 16.20.21
as I live and read

because the reading
does not only occur

when I am reading a book
(books, I love, like roses, to hold)

but occurs when I am writing,
and when I had been travelling,

and when I am on a journey,
and although what I am always reading,

is always beautifully written,
sometimes the context is so disturbing, and unnerving,

so as to drop a giant axe
in the massive sea in me.

Reading occurs when I am going home from work,
for example, last night, Saturday,

at 2am, (Sunday morning?) completely freaked out,
on a crowded bus, grateful for others,

grateful for each other. Grateful it didn’t rain,
getting home from Pimlico where I work

to South East London where I live
across Vauxhall bridge a terrorist attack two hours later,

and one on London Bridge,
and Borough Market,

on the same
last night.

As I live and read,
because as I reread this poem I am writing

before I post it online, I do not read books alone,
I am reading life, itself, and attempting to understand,

as I am grateful
I made it home safe….

If logic is the finest structure of Logos.
And if the east is taking revenge on the west.

Served best cold?
How the blood of the innocence, spilled.

Wired questions.
Plucked feathers floating down from the sky.

Pillow book.