Through the orange tunnel

I
At frightening speed I went through the orange tunnel, 
at frightening speed,
when I came to I was on the field,
fallen off my horse,
I revelled in the bugs
in having hands and feet
in the big blue sky
not orange
Oh you, tunnel!
What bullet did you shoot through yourself?
And towards whom you shot?
And towards whom?

II
They shot at animals and grasses and mosquitoes
and they made of water the stone
and the fish inside it, the larger ones
festoon our circles – stars.
Oh, what a fingertip is this sky!
with which I can discover you,
Maybe you’ll make a fish into a stone again
maybe from stone you’ll make again
the birth of rivers!

III
Whom should I punish with my death?
What violet from blue should I widow?
The revelling of being
whose eye a tear is?
Why did you give me more than my tenuous wall?
Why do you force me to think with my sight?
Why should I hold an apple in each hand,
when the hand itself holds itself,
without pain.

IV
Scintillating sky with stars
was shadowing with one word –
through the nerve of a single verb
time is just an animal,
a relief of mountains,
a sea
an Ithaca.

V
The trees quietened down
and they smiled at me
and I knew: soon they
will also die
The sparrow in my thought quietened down
and pecked words out of my palm
and I knew: soon
it will die
The horse quietened down of saddle
and the mountain quietened down of eagles
disquieted I stood
wailing I stood
to bury them in thoughts
and I was scared and did not smile

VI
As if I was in a rabbit
in the tenderness and the cuddlesomeness of the orange rabbit
I was in the tenderness of an orange rabbit
cuddlesome.
Even more than that,
as if  I was inside a rabbit
in the tenderness of a rabbit
of course an orange one
I sped faster than a bullet
and stood stiller
that forgetfulness