A shell or a small stick in my, yours, his or her
devoted hand stirs the still untrodden wet
beach. A horizonless sea full of space
Feel the wind that moves the sentence
Read the grains of sand. The skinny mule dances
exuberantly on our light-hearted stage
Her brush with poisonous water from the village well
of cliché’s invisibly colours a digital photograph
on the wall still bare but crying out hungrily
for what may let itself be heard passionately
in the hearts of the others-just as fiercely as ours
Listen to her hand
Does she hear the silence of my breathless call
for more?

film and television bibliography biography