Viktor Wynd

on a faraway beach at night where nobody sees

In - poems

i am not here
in front behind around
the faces stare
the old masters’ portraits of the wicked
the good
the dead

who are they
and why
and who am i?
(i’m not the one who knows)
they’re on the wall
& i am not

they were here once
some of them
here where i am
looking up and wishing they were there

where they now are

the painter & the painted

i like it here

seated looking

i just want to be alone with my thoughts of no one
& no one’s thoughts of me

i want to disappear
to be a wave that comes from nowhere
travels

swells

& grows

& simply dies on a faraway beach at night where nobody sees