Snow:
years of anger following
hours that float idly down—
the blizzard
drifts its weight
deeper and deeper for three days
or sixty years, eh?  Then
the sun!  a clutter of
yellow and blue flakes—
Hairy looking trees stand out
in long alleys
over a wild solitude.
The man turns and there—
his solitary track stretched out
upon the world.

there is always somebody or something
waiting for you,
something stronger, more intelligent,
more evil, more kind, more durable,
something bigger, something better,
something worse, something with
eyes like the tiger, jaws like the shark,
something crazier than crazy,
saner than sane,
there is always something or somebody
waiting for you
as you put on your shoes
or as you sleep
or as you empty a garbage can
or pet your cat
or brush your teeth
or celebrate a holiday
there is always somebody or something
waiting for you.

keep this fully in mind
so that when it happens
you will be as ready as possible.

meanwhile, a good day to
you
if you are still there.
I think that I am---
I just burnt my fingers on
this
cigarette.

some people never go crazy.
me, sometimes I'll lie down behind the couch
for 3 or 4 days.
they'll find me there.
it's Cherub, they'll say, and
they pour wine down my throat
rub my chest
sprinkle me with oils.
then, I'll rise with a roar,
rant, rage -
curse them and the universe
as I send them scattering over the
lawn.
I'll feel much better,
sit down to toast and eggs,
hum a little tune,
suddenly become as lovable as a
pink
overfed whale.
some people never go crazy.
what truly horrible lives
they must lead.

I see you,
In greater conversations
And small
Talks,
Lost in time,
But,
Weighted in a reality,
That the years
Exist,
Through small lines,
Near your eyes
Are histories,
That most miss,
I see you,
In stanzas of songs,
Reminding you
Of home,
Nights of sweat and smoke,
Paired with a hopeful abandon,
Of living forever
But praying for death
By
Their kiss,
I see you,
In prose and rhymes,
Of books upon books,
With eyes heavier than
The pride,
You wish you saw in your father's,
The legs sore,
Because you forgot what it's like
To not try to run,
I see you,
In the moments,
In the
In between,
The indescribable
Deep breath photographs
That make up the flashes
Of phone calls and razors edges
On linoleum,
With Fate's scissors
Being put back in the box,
I see you,
Through the hidden smiles,
That convey a sense of mystery,
Forcing my uncontrolled
Outbursts,
To see what other
Smirks and eye rolls
That even you are surprised
When they are uncovered,
Like the gaunt archeologist
I treasure them,
And put them on display
At my memories museum,
I see you,
In the days
You are away,
When shirts and the sounds
Of morning coffee contemplations
Are the only things
Keeping me sane,
I see you,
In future momentary messages,
And past years pudding proof,
That with all the moments,
Yet lived,
That
Will let me,
See you.

words
by millions,
collected them,
a life time,
constellations
pinned,
hanged,
winged,
butterfly like.

pick
one by one,
their weight,
their taste.

empty,
every one.
heavy
like round pebbles
on dried creeks.

summoned the night
upon, laid my wings.

rainbows
gave me up.

mama told me:
minodora, stop thinking about sam
when you go to the market
think of bacon, think of cabbage
be a proper woman
what would have been, i asked her
if beethoven hadn’t always had a bird
singing in his head?
yeah but beethoven, mama said
picking up the dust rag
and starting to clean the genius’s ears
and that’s only because i must
write about you
the same way i must sneeze
or yawn
i dreamt of you last night
you had a baby with a cat’s head
he was cute as a button
you were screaming your head off
‘come see what a tumbling rock
has to go through to reach a beautiful stillness’
it’s a big deal
when you forget to cross yourself
before going to sleep

Nora Iuga translated by Diana Manole and Adam Sorkin