Aliens are playing with rabbits on the roof
And the tap water has iridescent holes the size of my head.
No one is able to steal the Sun.
The house as a whole is real and hot like an awkward
Tree that has tried to
Stop a mountain or a mouse. Chalk drawings made by a changeling
On the driveway are slowly
Losing a dimension in honor of a goose
That destroys itself beyond threadbare winds.
Nameless and barefoot tribes
Pass it unnoticed, the pockets full of wristwatches,
Heads of the waterfowl mythology, hearts
Removed by the gods.

Ivan Peledov is a poet now living in Colorado. He likes to travel and to forget the places he has visited later. He has been recently published in Clockwise Cat, TXTOBJX, Unlikely Stories and Illuminations.

This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Home

  1. What on earth does this mean? If anything?

    • Ivan Peledov says:

      It does, but I don’t know what kind of answer you expect. Perhaps I should say that it’s about being homeless while having a house, however ridiculous it may sound.

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