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Maria Mitea Sep 2022
her skin, cast ointment:
prepare me for death, woman,
my darling, you fall
slowly
as a flake fall in my white hands,
do not rush,
come with the torch  and let's light the fountains,
release your aroma slowly,
soothing kindles, fire in the silky miter,
darkness is your cure, sweetness,
i will stay with you from the beginning to the end,
pour yourself into the rings of the hungry belly,
and when the fight between the angels happens,
i will give you  the mana from heaven,
only in her skin do angels speak,
only she knows the language of angels.
Spring's entry... ⛅🌿
From a nearby tea grove...
🌿🌿🌿
A lady's song fills my cup...

Glass plate,
With apple blossoms 🌼🍎
and rose hips...
Cranes fly south...
To my mother's palm trees...
🌴🌴🌴
snowy garden
full of wild apples🍏❄
bare branches...

Apple season, 🍎🌸
The slow ripening
of my womb...

Apple pie,
smells like Muhammad’s hands
cinnamon...
🌸🌸🌸

Second spring lockdown,
☀️🌿
Gazing at the daffodils
From the first one...
🌼🌼🌼
Open window,
Under the Silver mulberry tree,
The voice of a srange woman...

Red grains,
From magnolia cones,🌺
Grandmother's beads...

Among the water of 🌊
a fish bowl, 🐟
My first apple blossoms...
🌸🍏🌿 🌸🍎🌼🌸
Disappear into the stars...
⭐🐟⭐🌊🐟⭐🐟🐟 ⭐
فَصلِّ سیب...
بُويِّ دَست هآيِ خوآهَرَم...
بُودِه اي...

۱۱ آذَر
Not coming out
Spring...
Except through
Your fingers ...
Through Your eyes ...
A rainbow,
arched over rice fields
frogs,
Start croaking...

I Become a mother ...
In A bright Sunny day ...

Illinois cornfield...
too many fireflies at once
too many fireflies...

Oh my little black star!
I know the grooves between your hands...
Smelling you Among my bright motherly clothes
Oh white and free lily,
In my June ...!
The butterfly’s
flaming wings
on the rim of the birdbath...
You are the
  Honeysuckle,
Blooming in the wind ...
You are a fetus,
You have not been
In my femininity
womb ...
O my flesh!
O my spring!
And O beyond my
cadaver...!
Rainbows dancing
Happily...
In the glitter of your eyes ...
Oh, my flower of the moon!
Lala, Lala
Dahlia flowers...
The sun is gone
The night has come ...
Lala, Lala
Chrysanthemum flowers,
Coco's chicken will sing again
Lala, Lala Velvet flowers ...
A deer sleeps in the forest
Lala, Lala
The flower of Moonlight ...
A firefly is in the meadow
Lala, Lala
Tulip flowers...
The leopard moaning a lot
in the mountains...
Lala, Lala
Almond flowers ...
Sweet flowers, sleep quietly
Lala, Lala
Zinnia flowers...
My baby can wake up
tomorrow...
...شیشه های رنگي
آوازِ آفتآب گردان ها
🌻🦋🌻🦋🌻
...و یك پروآنه یِ زرد
🦋
مادر بودن؛
و تلالؤِ زرد و
سبزِ
برگ هایِ انگور
....در چشم هایش
🌿☀️🌿🌿🌿

Colored glasses...
The song of sunflowers...
🌻🦋🌻🦋🌻
And a yellow butterfly...
🦋
being a mother;
And the yellow and
green glitter of
grape leaves
In his eyes....
🌿☀️🌿🌿🌿
2021 June 9, Wednesday🌺🦋
  Sep 2022 Maria Mitea
Kurt Philip Behm
The shorter the distance
between concept and words
The deeper the impact
—of what’s to be heard

(Dreamsleep: September, 2022)
  Sep 2022 Maria Mitea
Steve Matthews
A tweak here,
a tweak there.

As if the right word
in the right place
could salvage this mess.

But no,
a simple fix won't do.

What's wrong here
is nothing less than
pretty much everything.

So, forget the thesaurus.
Forget the band-aid.

What I need is a miracle.
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