Frozen, Beloved at Tiziano   

(Autobiographical for LVT) (improved draft)

Usual global lifestyle tricks,
clouds of summer afternoon
(Mind, joyful at the crispness
of multinational waiters.)

Hey, Tiziano, M. and maybe Darno who terrorized the old lady --
After inspecting Dorotheen Friedhof, I state:
“Do not run away from your tomstone.”

I can not deny =
At the nearby corridor I gentlemanly presented
my convicted face at the tobacconist shop:
my grace, brilliance stemming from gentility,
eyes luster, mad look, devouring
target area inhabitants
detected and besieged by a rangefinder.

Yesterday, soul boosting news:

- The cat, the lovely Pishi, is dead.
- Tropical rain flooded your office again. Old letters destroyed.
- “ I am writing from Baghdad. We consider you one of the Avantgardists of writing and thinking.”

I do not deny, my mind is crisp and sharp
all my tasks are half-ready
all my goals half-done.

And can I ever deny:

Berlin is my cubicle where I cry when in distress and destruction.
Here, my eyes are fearless, my heart is invincible.

Torture enhances my awakening for I, a stubborn, introverted boy, drag with me short-lived liveliness of Kirkuk´s plains, wandering barefooted on the burning dust of Al-Musalah, driven by desires, insatiable, and a crazy mind, impatient with the slow discovery of trivial connections such as: the flint stone the poet is rounding in his palms is a monument.

In this cool and fresh air of Tiziano,
I dream of bullets mechanics penetrating bodies,
during this infernal summer in Iraq;
only turning the body inside out can stop bleeding.

(LVT ! Awaken yourself, abandon the freezer, put on some make-up, walk to where I am at this ongoing Tiziano feast and nightmare.
Let my hand pass through your hand, voyaging to new versions of ourselves, and touch me while I am waiting for my faraway death.)

Anwar Al-Ghassani
Berlin-Ostbahnhof, Café Tiziano,
Tuesday, July 20, 2004