Heart flattened in an avalanche of odd

These poems are built around the waking moments - the instance when the dream state and wakefulness flip and the whole dreaming hubris gets tossed into a pile in some mental corner like some leftovers. In a way, it is an exploration of the concepts presented in Salvador Dali's 1944 painting Dream Caused by the Flight of a Bee Around a Pomegranate a Second Before Awakening that went through a transporter accident and turned out to be this eldritch ethereal entity that writhes as it is falling apart into sheer nothingness.

This effect is achieved by writing poems in two languages at the same time and continuously adjusting each version with meanings emerging in the opposite version. It helps with maintaining the dream-like state of caution when things can take any shape and move in any direction without being bound to some arcane internal logic or reader's immersion.

---

1

Heart flattened in an avalanche of odd
- it’s convoluted macadam.

And then it’s wildly empty…

A kind of mist slips through the back of the head
- an oddball sigh bursts out
Full of itself
- far and away:

There’s this prancing silence of abundant emotion
Whiffing tiptoes inside out:

The involuntary splinter of the inexplicable -
nooks and crannies nictate with a whirlwind
- the darkness grinning.

This feeling of exuberance
Emerges barely defined…

A thump:
Guffaw
Befogged…

2

The tedium of echoes -
burnished, freckled haze
- engulfing chime of consternation:

Pangs expunged
by leaps and bounds
Blasting murk of void
All at once…

The fish-hook of dread gone backwards
The clapper swaddled
Twisted into a half-hearted whip:
thwack  
- The inexplicable is rolling out...

The pile-up of the ice debris - out of nowhere
The wraith of sense
- the thudding sound of falling to pieces,
Almost a relief.

And then - the silence plays.

3

The eldritch spawns halt
Left grinning gapes of resound.
A moment later:

The ineffable gloom launches a whirligig
To chop the thought of moving over:

It’s deafening - this bit of treachery
Takes a dapper stab
- a wisp of cloud -
Ripen - quite much so.

The haughty tangle of the athwart smudges
goes right through
- cicada buzzing,
hissing coming right behind -
The one wrapped in the immense unease -

Warped into a tumbleweed
Lost on the back road to somewhere else -

The lather of the wretched ridge,
The trample of the cold exposure.