in an even more distant land
where love is a devil eating chains
at a big banquet
hope, a hungry wolf admiring him with lust,
I will go to a country
where souls are called like soldiers in an unconscious war
underground
the curse, a gentle baby suckled by the grass
****** death,  our joy
anger, flying stars
fear, dancing bride
tears broken kisses from victoria waterfall
rain, crayfish in tomato sauce,

let's get rid of this winter
I'm ready to do anything
but anything,
I"ll make death from the water
and  life from the swords,
red blood  shine like the sun,

white and beautiful
this winter wants everything to look like mastery that caresses our eyes,
bears in a den,
when I feel crying like a naughty child
I will go far, far away...
where the earth trembles under your voice
and sad eyes  hug like two prayers on the streets of philadelphia

life is like a well-compressed gunpowder

one match is enough, bang, immediate effect,  blows everything up
you give it space, you leave too much room
you will not see a spark,

likewise, when the man suffers the spirit is constrained
to wake up
explode, strive
ready to hear when the person moans, whimpers at night

in pain, the spirit rejoices in its own language
and why he wouldn't enjoy
when there is enough work to do for the next hundred years
to dig up the springs
raise the stars (like night)
or like the wind
to sway the waves of the sea to the shore

man, man

you search yourself and you search  yourself for life
the same as when macaca is searching for lice:

- with the monkey sister you nibble on your belly
- with the monkey brother you nibble on your back

- the monkey god
after getting tired of stealing (from tourists):
slippers, sunglasses, bags
lipsticks, thong *******
it goes up on your head
to lice you a little bit more
to tickle your scruff

you're looking for her
but she's right there
where else to be
when carried away by the waves
in white snow
discovering
the wind

only you know, humble and hungry dog
the insatiable as you do expect
to lick her legs, and
only you know
that
you promised her round two
(when you already gave it all in round one)

oh, man, man

you are looking, and looking for yourself

macaca shakes its hand: - if you have nothing better to do

look




. |

the universe
it is
a superb creation
perfect
elegance
majestic

while
in its random reality
one thing is certain:
- it is the worst construction
constructed
ever, who believes
doesn't know-
many constants
of arbitrary coupling
mass ratios
families
and families, and families of useless particles
& dark matter, - chewing gum on a stick

gross fact

the universe exists

pregnant abyss
established chain
a fire that breathes equations
while the truth is looking for its head and tail

certainly

by wandering the mind
hallucinating
it cannot be canceled

- the crime of thoughts
it is not its death

wet, wandering free on the streets,
sly, you looked into my eyes exaggerating with a cough: - i think i'm getting a cold,
isn't it the best rain,
the best day,
hug,
in the warmth of a hug, we melted like butter in each other's arms,
it was spring,
and it was the saturday before easter,
an aunt selling flowers on the sidewalk in the voivodeship park
she pointed out to us: - what a lack of education,
look at them, wet and without common sense
and respect, they kiss in the eyes of the world
today, on a easter saturday,
today's youth is  in disarray,
(she looked around seeking consolation, approval from passersby)



he was the lover that every woman carries within her from birth,
he caressed not as if he longed to be satisfied as a skilled lover,
he was soft and tender as a little kitten,
all he wanted was to stay inside her forever: without getting lost,
without taking up space, silent, without demands, pretensions wanted to stay there like a zygote,
a single cell resulting from the fusion of gametes,
without mouth, without eyes, lips, nose,
just  an embryo with a large forehead
which began the life cycle immediately after fertilization
and continues to weave the organs, the body (like when the bees  build the hive)
to mix life, the light that passes only through her womb.



he suddenly jumped up and down:
- this must be the realm between heaven and earth,
he started telling me everything he remembered,
yes everything
it was as if he was rolling like a snowball towards his own center

a knock on your door

  open the door

tonight the presence returned

let the steps lead you to the other side of the door

make your way
trough the light of rocking branches, nursing little buds
in the distance
the snow caresses their sleep
the wind
from time to time
is shaking the remnants of fright

  shards of crystal on the floor

between
no and yes

when you hear a knock on your door

open the door

consider the invitation

if i ever wanted to start over, where would i go:
- i return to the balcony on patrice lumumba street,
on the third floor, i see two ruins around our souls,
modern talking, brother louie is playing,
i wrap myself around your fingers like slimy playdough,
we go home, i see the apple tree in the cemetery, we pick apples:
- let me kiss you on your lips, let me kiss, - we are friends too,
i try to remember what i was looking for among the crosses and owls,
your mother was taking the cheese pies out of the hearth,
it's getting dark, we've put everything together,  waiting for her to fall asleep,
everything that happens, the tray falls and the bread shovel falls from the nail,
deadly silence on the village road, since then
we meet every ten years across the road
speechless, i look at you, you look at me,
father vasile sprinkles holy water, sanctifies the graves.

because it  burns  you
you don't like the sun
and the shadow doesn't buy a story,
It knows its edges and the milky ways,
attached to a leaf tail
chlorophyll counts its rays,
***** energy from its light,
- we grow elephant ears,
our heads have shrunk like the peak of a needle
bifurcated,
time does not lie
instead of being permanently bent
head
now it is one meter above the ground
hands / feet / thighs
we do everything we want in upright bipeds
yes,
to get out of africa
we walked thousands of years until we  picked up "the first thumb up"
then again we walked thousands of years,
we raised the thumb up again
thousands of years ... thumb (up) drive one gigabyte,

time does not lie

- i saw you at the țoțora in the polk of medhorotsky,
with the toma from brăila digging  ditches to keep your feet lower,
at a french carnival, you loved a girl and called her by the name
consuelo, mon amour, consuelo, - you wielded swords,
used feathers to write (with the blood) on a soap bubble
you were looking for

the time that does not lie

did you say:

- the night is just beginning to taste like molasses
- from afar, you see love like a bloated balloon lost in the distance
- to recognize the shape of the earth, i have to feel the stars beneath my feet,
to see the one above my head
- people are programmed to see faces even in sandwiches,
to believe strange things, that they can walk on the water or
like in little prince  to believe a talking fox: “though the eyes are eyes, they cannot see,
only the heart can,
tame a flower, and you”ll see that time does not lie ... ”
then what can you expect from the sun
when it burns like a madman in the wilderness and dances like a *****,

hallucinate

they say we are 13.7 billion light-years from the edge,
how  the sun not to like you when it heard you singing a song without a sound,
so simple and clear,
and now every morning it brings you a basket of jackfruit at the gate,

be ”the edge” truth or assumption,
”the foam that forms us and breaks into a vast cloud of styrofoam bbs” (Ken”s words)
who knows, otherwise
it seems that we are close to knowing the real shape of the earth:
jump up, fall on it, is  not  moving,
standstill and solid,
it doesn't matter which way you want to go
you can go in any direction
go far enough
go as far as you can
you will always reach the ocean

did you say:
- we live on an island

i will see you, my love
soon
i will see you in a windless country, in a thoughtless world,
with swords, we”ll cut off all roads in the air, from the earth
with our eyes, we”ll dress them up  in feathers of rio abre-alas,
open wings
one day soon, in the valley on the farm
seduced by the dry edge of the grass
crushed under the earth furrow we”ll forget about ourselves,
we”ll fall like a snow belt in the winter, slow, slow,
lazy to get lost in goosebumps, yellow,
create and raw, soon
the sun will call us to a world where love is truly blind
and deaf,
and mute,
and putrefied like an old woman,
older than stone,  birds, air
water
red angels, maybe one day soon
soon
our love will be easy,
so eeeeeeeasy
as easy as blue cheese mold on the tongue,
like a blues that is digging our thirst at night
like a lip gloss broken with a pointed nose,
warm, soft *******, sweet steam resting on the needles of time
caressed by two strands asleep in the stillness of white *******,
milk carved in palm lines,
hungry orphans,
beggars built in the breath of your chest, we will die
we will die, one day soon
and, you”ll come again with your forehead up, your swaying walk,
oh, your swaying walk, no eyes, no air
it will be easy to bite your lips
touch your hard beard
in a distant world where there are no storms
no thoughts
one day soon, one day
maybe

razor touch
gillette mach3 built with maximum precision
steel on the beard,
the cheek that seeks the skill of the one who
wants to feel the heart in the palms,  
long black night
calling the stars
birds
to taste your color: - scar
leaking in his left eye, like  zoro
you do like to fight
while
she's a larva for you
soft beetle
wingless abdomen that emits light
to give birth to your flight

destined sacredness in the red of the blood,
intertwined shoots from the wisdom of redemption:

- Woman,
no one has ever trusted us more than the good God,
he entrusted us with all his love, with the seed of the worldly fruit,
by his favor we find delight,

- Man,
no one has ever trusted us more than the good God,
he has entrusted us with the source of life,
with all his indulgence he entrusted us,

- let”s never withdraw our holiness, Man
- let”s never forget our purpose, Woman

God has given us all His strength, Man
- That's right, Woman, he gave us all his forgiveness,
his ways, his eyes, his light,
he gave us the whole life in one endless night,
he gave us the potency of sharing  the joy and pleasure of being Man&Woman

- Man, the woman in me is just for you
- Woman, the man in me is just for you

He lives in our eyes, heralds of love affairs,
take me in your arms, Man - come close to Him,
lay your cheeks on my ******* eagerly waiting for your lips,
what a hard-working man you are, listen to a woman's heavy breathing,
a flame that burns in your diligence born of sighing and yearning:
bathe in the richness of the perpetuation of eternal life,
quench your endless thirst in the belly full of sap and fruit,

- look into my eyes, Man
- look into my eyes, Woman

Woman of the holy ray, - come near Him,
let your ear be heard in the beating of the ******* worthy of kisses from the rain,
in the land of peonies, I will be the gardener of your red cheeks,
I promise you everything you want, that you are a woman
I will be a river of honey that flows through the fruitful blood,
-we are his equals, Woman, he built us creators like Him

Generous and dignified Man,
- promise me not to withdraw our holiness from each other,
I'll bring you my lips every night,
rose petals to cover your eyes dazed by the pleasure of bed in two;
the witness of carnal pleasure.
let us give ourselves as if we were living the last moment of delight:

- Man, no one has ever been so generous with us
- Woman, no one has ever been so good to us

- by the command to love one another
he entrusted us with his Holy Ornaments, Man

- he entrusted us with the Source of his Life, Woman

The master of the dawn said: - It's strange to be here
on the black lips of the fields, and the evening caught up in between drops,
black trees making me shiver, - Kalos Gheron all dressed up in wet clothes,
blowing hair in the sky and a long beard rooting in the ground,
without cravings and sandals, penetrated by rain, crushed by worries
at the farm, takes the cows to pasture, - the mystery has not left them,
in peace, they ruminate wisely,
the master of the dawn said: - it, also, will snow tomorrow at the fair.

It's morning in the broken smile by tender snow,
heroic, simple, altruistic,
doubtless is sleeping on the branches with the hearing and sight of a partridge,
under the selfish blue sky, a trumpeter improvises,
- the aristocratic fields parade their white robes,
and the deer you saw last night is lying naked on the blind grass,
waiting for the groom in feather flakes to come,
two stars slip in her eyelashes gently whispering:
- down at the spring the lord of heaven cries out to us,
the time to receive the prayer (until dawn) arrives.

The master of the dawn said:- with him, I kindly realize how fear drifts far
and how his fantasy rotates, thaws the mist into white locks, (like a trumpeter playing
outside the scene with extinguished effect) at the call of the stars
the lord of heaven calls us.

the raindrops  commit suicide  on the window
as if
they washed the  goodbye  message with the blood of the water,

- the rain today carries swords like a samurai,
kills the morning,
the horizon is a simple bandana ******* on the eyes,

don't worry,
in case if you do not come
i will understand, - we will be those, others
in their words,
their lips, their smell and
their mornings, -
sometimes
dressed up in discreet clothes,  other times naked
on the knees
dragging our elbows (as in a war),
elbows gnawed by others,

their rain
will bring back the good splashes for the lonely ones like us, but
not the single one

in a blister of days,
it is raining,
finally
- raining

it's unfair to hate the morning
- it's unfair to hate,
because
neither the new nor the old
after burning the night
this day does not return in vain,
this day is a good day to be: a leaf
scribbled by the blue of the sky,
green sprawling on the ground, the sea
turned upside down (steam hanging from the sky
mornings), - today i woke up
with all colors of mine caressing  the faint frost on the top of the grass,
dressing up for the winter, wood and smoke rodents,
- to lighten up  the agate eye
i did not  forget the summer flowers either,
colored dust and water
"holi diwali", smiles in clay lanterns, lost kiss in rangoli
- ah, darling,
do not forget,
this day is a good day to be your favorite color,  like
the color of the sky,  of the sun,  earth, or grass ...

you will never know where you forget it
or lose it,
the night is an overstuffed  suitcase
that you never know when it will open wild,

i saw you walking, even more
i touched you a little with my elbow
everywhere
on the platform, it opened like the mouth of a boa constrictor,
i see myself running with a red ribbon in my hand,
for the first time, we are face to face
overwhelmed by our presence
we become dwarfs: ”poems, poems,… how much lipothymia,
these poems really did it to us, it brought us into exasperation ”- you bite your chapped lips,
i look at your fingers, searching  to hold a cigarette between your lips
no words
naive, i repeat "stay, stay", the train is coming
it's time to live, you lift your suitcase (tightly tied)
i see a rabbit with wet, bright eyes running,

it's autumn, the leaves are like red ***** hanging in the trees,
i clench my teeth, my hands, my eyes tighten, again
determined i want to squeeze all the pain (i would make a fat must),
i want to slap my face,
so, i wake up
to remember how in school i had to learn the names of every war battle,
to learn the name of each river, bridge,
the name of each soldier,
if i knew them, i would be given a red pioneer tie
(which needed to be ironed and kept close to my bed)
at night
stuffed like an old suitcase
the train leaves,
as if through the fog I see you on the platform: - do you want a cigarette,
- thank you, i don't smoke.

(the smoke rolls like a boa constrictor)

warm sun  
burning my lips, cheeks, shoulders, *******,
skin
i opened my eyes and saw how we lost one of our lives -
all that remained was thirst until  our lips cracked,  and
we snacked the lives that remained unstolen.

as you want

non-existence,
yours,
beautiful/old/beautiful/ugly/young/ death woman/
madam -
it does not make any difference,
It doesn”t

tell me what you want, how you want,
- if it makes you feel good
make me the 13th day of the month, year, century,
i know, this year you weren't unlucky enough
tell me how you want: - morbid, bone marrow disease,
cold-lipped monastery,
the wanderer of wandering poems,
the beloved from the workshop, - considered
unsatisfactory,

steal everything you want: questions, thoughts,
eyes, lips, sleep,
- you can be speechless,
consider yourself the last man on earth,
pretend that you do not exist, -

you will not succeed,


for me you are

you

are

the sonnet of a sublime dream,

by the way, - beautifully sublime,

i feel at ease

i will shout many times

i will scream

Sublime! (until i get tired)

you

anyway,

tell me how you want, what you want,

you will not succeed

you will not push me away like you are used to

Connect to God

and you are right there

because where else could we go?

i am thinking of you, until when.

when. not seeing you.

i stretch out my hands (like a blind man)
stepping on sounds -
pieces of glass underfoot

keeping you pierced in my heels. until

when. i can't hear you.

i soften your steps with my lips

when. i don't touch you.

i don't touch yourtouch.  

until

i cry

dream in the night breeze
tell me
who
who crushes our cries
who keeps us on our knees

dream in the night breeze
look into my eyes
touch my lips with promises
promise me to hold me in your arms

promise me

i will plant for you a forest in the desert
to be able to shout at me
the echo to knock on every door
and ask
how to have you

- clearwater how to drink you

this loneliness is needless
the roads are superfluous
even the rain is a stranger
an intruder
it can leave
it can leave
to leave us
to leave us alone
to leave us in the lust of madness

let it be the day when we are grassroots  growing in soil
let it be the day when we are water in the riverbed
mysterious light
a whisper in the creed

you are all I have
you are all I have in my heart

when do you come?

I received a ticket to the land of never happened,
not knowing how to find its non-end
I flew until  landed on an eyelid,
- you were standing still,

then I thought,

to be able to stand face to face,
let”s carve the gate of the kissless,
- we have eyes, we have,
we flow into them like a river of milk,
eye to eye, lip to lip, - no kiss,
like marble statues, we remain devoted to innocence,
we keep it as holy water,
we drink it without wetting our lips,
without being crazy to kiss when the village burns,

and instead of the table of silence
we better carve the table of non-silence
- everything will be perfect,
without struggling in our own nets,
we hide in one eye, small, small,
unseen and beautiful,
when the unlived would see us
so cute, and quiet,
quite,
like two fireflies,
would let us,
it would let us play between your eyebrows,

*

and we played,
we played with two strands of grass,
the grass of never happened,
it was sweet
so sweet
that the insomnia of a poem struck us,
(already written by the other eye,
but who cares
when I already had a ticket to the land of never happened)

sunrise promised to wait for us
the dawn did not rise over the village,
in the eyes of the muses
the dawn promised to wait for us

muses are not like poets,
not even like the sun
that
burns its rays on the cascades moved by lazy waves,

- the dawn did not rise over the village,
the down promised to wait for us,
swore to the muses,
swore that the water would comb at the rising sun
  smoothly
it will burn in his eyes like the star of the night while planting a garden
where
the muses smolder all year round like flowers, or
like coal extracted from the hearts of poets,

Who Told You

You call again, and you talk endlessly
In this house, we spend many nights
Night after night, night after night
You tell me that you are mine
Now you left first, stay where you are,
Do not call me, do not ask

Why you call, who tolled you
That I miss you
Who told you that I love you
Your shadow follows me
like a spell running after me,
running after me
after you left,

How many time I have to tell you
We are the unfortunate one,

Stop calling me, stop talking with me
My home is not your home
I want to forget, I want to
Forget your voice, there is nothing
Nothing we can share,

~ your power and money you protect assiduously are not yours, but somebody else’s belongs

~ to those that stay bend in front of the sewing machines, and sweat from morning to night in the rice fields

~ carving out their backs in faith and in prayer, when you are exploiting every inch of their skin in hidden forms of slavery,

~You, wearing  at your ceremonies clothes made by devoted hands waiting for centuries justice to come and kiss their palms with humbleness and forgiveness,  

~while you still keep covering your misery of habit and greed in silk and playing the saver of those that never gave up on fighting against your lost sense of humanity ...

easiness
the traveling light
thaws time
- from sunset
to the east
late borders we are
watered by rain with its silence,
- two halves of a stone rounding their edges in the sun,
two forgotten lips in the lull between two *******

I get stuck too,
because
sometimes
I wonder
what to say
when I
myself have not finished my waiting,
my obsessions, my doubt, ...
and when I finish it,
how will I be able to advise you?

How I can be sure?

When, still, all my obsessions
and commitments
go hand in hand.

I don't know,

Honestly,

Sometimes,

If these words are not superfluous,
Forgive me for announcing you
That you have your own life,
Wait for it!
As she waited for you …

If the desire for life is not burning your heart,

If the desire for life is not burning your heart,
go to the flower fields, lie down in the green grass, and kiss it
until it gets your lips green
green  - green -  and
                                    deepen your hands în the black earth,
deepen your hands în the black earth,
squeeze its roots,
                            squeeze its roots,
squeeze its roots, like a child does,
let its juices drain through your fingers

let its juices drain through your fingers

let its juices drain through your fingers

meet the sun rising like a Lover,
let it be your guiding myth,
let it be your silent light,

flow with the waves of the sea,
                                                 flow with the waves of the sea,
randomly, give a hug to a seagull, and dream, dream, dream...

After,
if you are tempted, you can try over and over ... over ...
if help is needed, the wind can help,
                                                    let the heart open like a rose,
share the dawn,
                         roses love to be touched by the morning dew
dew dew dew
dew
after, if you  are tempted, try again, one more time,

(…all we do here, my dear, is try
            to recover
                         the wings we once lost in the rain …)

on that day
she performed the dance
in a mortal silence

lustful intensity,

the unusual
exit with the back
was hiding her face
without any wave of hope,
the eyes
where
seeking consolation,
her spine
became alive
like a tempting serpent,
arms
were wavy wings
a cry for help,
legs outstretched
like two cello strings
rising
under the guidance
of internal forces,

the pirouettes
faked
with a great talent
the lack of courage,
as a sacrifice brought to the air
she kept doing
dozens of rotations
as if
the body
was anointed
with the dark air,

then,

it fell into its arms
like a wet coat,

every movement
spoke
again and again
"I love you
and
I hate you",

sun rays
died
in a light
that bowed obediently
under  the public eyes
riveted
like a forest
of frozen trees,
waiting for
what's next

the onion in father's hands didn't have time to cry,
with his fist punched it on the corner of the table, spread salt and
ate it with sheep's cheese,
(like the builders of the pyramids, my dad was paid in onions)

the onion in my mother's hands was sweet and made many leaves,
spring after spring she shared it throughout the village,
people were wondering: how does not bring tears,


every time I have an onion in my hand I think,
to clean it with my hands,
cut it with a knife, or
punch it with a fist,

the onion in my hands
is waiting

as I go up and down the stairs,
the rain stops abruptly as if struck by lightning,
the breath of spring deflowers my lungs,
I see two eyes bathing in the outpouring of sounds,
the chirping of birds snatches my mind,
pulls it on a string,
- the thought
sits on the lilac leaves,

I cling to everything that gets in my way,
I feel like then
when I was drowning in the pond at the far end of the village
hanging from a willow branch
at the bottom of the water, I hear your voice,
you were whispering:
"breathe, breathe, move your hands
move your legs,
it will come, it will come "

with the tightness of my heart, I take my head out of the water,
expire water,
for the rest of my life, I stay away from thirst,

at times

I prefer to be a sauerkraut
or dilute like a mercaptan
which passes through its own volume of air,
raising its value to an acceptable limit,

I search,
I give myself time,

I end up in a world of smells,
lichen, moss scent the forest
without losing patience
or weight,
lazy molecules (arouse my envy),
- little magicians on stones,
faithful masters of the forest boulders,
a carpet of green moss
I will be,
without blood in the veins,
without flowers,

today I will be
a moss that absorbs all the moisture from the rain
until I get over my own invisibility.

in a drop of honey. meant to be. to be lost.
although. it seems. the moment has passed.
in reunion. the candour of the words touches our breath.
there are not many thoughts to see.
the fateful meeting. shared without being.
during another equally fateful meeting.

you're right. i still wonder where you are.
from whose sleep you are born in blue mornings.
flowing appearance disguised in the bird thrill.

the green eyes. thirsty eyes want you
- greedy seekers for physical existence.
while the heart is a master on the other side of the hours and days.
piling them against the walls of fleeting sleep.

a memento. about how far we have come to forget.
and how much we hold on. on the line of the palms. deviations from the sun's rays. forced into curves of smiles. what breaks the skin. in the flesh. i'm not alone. when it hurts. the gates of heaven open the perplexity.

in bewilderment you remind me. who am i.

Halfway between past and future,
Life and death, singularity and universality,
The eye is looking through the clepsydra of time,
The Absolut,
- I am the only one twisting the strings of conflux,
The Eternal tells,
-All things from today and tomorrow already happened,
It is all in vain, don't even  bother,
There are even memories of
The worlds that haven't been born yet,

Tying to suspend time,
Why?
When the days and nights are unchanged
From the beginning of the world.

they are invisible
there are always bridges
across the chasm,

Your memories will always be the treasure of your soul,
Good, less good, light as the sun's rays
Or heavy as a well stones,
Protect your memories
And stop fighting for the man without a past,

Let the memories make you happy in the sadness of the day,
Today and tomorrow,
Do not chase them away like fierce enemies,
How to live in a world without a past,
How to lose the love for what we lived,
And the pain we felt,

Let them caress your soul like a feather in a dream,
When only the stones see you and the dogs boo you,
And the knot tightens in your throat,
At times, memories are the only one soothing you,

And the only one calling for hope at the table of pain,
And the only one calling  the desire in the bed of love,
And the only one that fight as can fight.

they're not like moths,
eating only fur, wool, and natural silk,
rats eat plastic or chew gum; they're not fussy.  

- they adapt  easily to any home,
it doesn't have to be luxurious,
in the country or the city,
- when moving to a new home
the first thing they do, - they multiply as quickly as possible,

- i admire rat women,
after giving birth seven times a year, the males abandon them
without leaving a note, a letter, or alimony,
and they become  strong, durable, ready for the tuff life,

- i also admire the intelligence of the male rat
they understood well how not to turn nature into whining,
"what doesn't **** you strengthens you."

- it is fascinating how the large ones are the heads on sewers and basements,
and the little ones are the bosses on the ceilings and roofs,

- roof rats are named astrologers,
looking at the stars and the moon, writing poems,
composing music,
  climbing,
climbing now, as you read,
climbing on the window of your room

for each seed growing in a strong tree,
half a million other seeds will bite the dust,
except, to taste the dust they must believe  in the power of usefulness,

- unable to think that they will never germinate
they let themselves be carried away by exotic dreams:
dreaming of being nibbled by sparrows, washed by rain,
smelled, chewed by squirrels, beaten by hot-cold winds,
swaying in foamy waves,
touched by a second chance,
than
rotten in the mud under a tree,  be it a strong tree, who cares,
in other words, about a vigorous tree when you are a survival  arch,
canopy
arched up to the white canvases.

our dying kiss
two babies were born
with flying wings

in a world of glitter and tinsel
we are two visions of mori butterflies,
whose larvae eat the darkness of the night
like a white mulberry tree, leaving holes of light
on the forgotten silky roads.

Today I want to draw you
(Yes, I can draw you. It's all about starting.)

With the black pencil, I draw a cross on the white,
I cut the white, you're done, you're not white,
You would have been a bride dressed in white,
but you are not,
Then I wonder, what another colour,
I jump joyfully and choose the yellow pencil,

I draw your eyes with yellow, you start shouting at me,
The black cross is cutting the white of the paper
from one end to the other,
again, you are screaming out your lungs,
your screaming energizes the colour,
yellow comes out on the lips, on the nose,
it brightens the thickness of the eyes.

The room is full of golden light
fighting with monochromatic egotism.

Your yellow is absorbed in me,
I become a dandelion that draws you în autumn leaves,
jasmine, chrysanthemums, butterflies, bees,
all small insects invade the room, the paper,
my eyes enter your eyes.

You scream at me ”stop! it hurts”

Greedily I consume all the yellow from the sun,
You keep screaming at me  ”do not **** me in flowers”
I  get more excited
and I move with the joy of a child who discovered the pleasure of scribbling,

The yellow from the drawing grows your head big like an asteraceae,
I start seeing a smoky red, invasively yellow navigates towards red,
red is growing in an orange,

The orange rolls under the golden layer, it touches the cross.
The cross gives birth to multicoloured roads,
gardens and orange orchards are growing  from the desire to shape your face,

You stopped shouting. I sketch your profile.
With a husky voice, you ask me if I can draw an orange,
I draw an orange.
Tell me, who doesn't like oranges.

the fruit of their few
joyful days together

it stops in the heat of the day and picks your wildflowers.
it's coming. it certainly comes. out of the world. ones.
white moths will flutter their wings at your years
"if you want. come to dinner. we”ll be us ”

for fear of another step back. every second asks incessantly
"what could have happened"
the eyes remained fix on that crucifix.
chain hanging on the rearview mirror "

a heart that splits in the rain.

- it hurts ... but no ... I can't open the door.
"let's run. run with me. now"
one last look disappears in the flood of rain.
*
it can hit. anyone. anywhere. anytime.
in silence ... keep your hand on the door handle.
if not. we can say "it was the tyranny of time"

next to her
and looked at her,
- i thought, - a mound with a soul
that I could smell,

smelled like a wolf near the deer

i could see her with my own mind
as she was in the light of the day,
beautiful as she was and overly attractive.

Aren't you sleeping?

I heard her.

I had no air

I want your eyes,
I want them,
If I can't have your eyes,
Will I ever have your ears,

I want your thoughts,
I want them,
if I can't have your thoughts,
Will I ever have your heart,

I want to keep you close
I want you,
if I can't keep you away,
Will I ever keep you close?

to find a balance between the feeling of uselessness
and that of the need to fight,
between the certainty of inevitable failure
and the inevitable imperative,

your words sway in me
as in a hammock between two trees
embracing their roots
far away from the eyes of the world,
the leaves fluttering in the wind
like two lovers disinterested in kissing,
pale grass longing near the trunk,
waiting for the caressing rain, and me,
trembling like a rabbit at every word you say.

Do you want to know how Brave you are?
Then,
Be curious to know your vulnerabilities.

Courage
is directly proportional to your weaknesses,

It is snowing today with Crumbs of bread,
the Crumbs pass through the air,
fall, and only where they do not fall,
and only who does not nibble on them,
every day a flock of birds flies
around a Crumb of bread, an anthill feeds,
*
There were so many of us around the table,
like giants in drops of blood,
my mother didn't scold us
if the Crumbs fell on the floor, rather
a sister or brother pointed the finger:
you have made Crambs, it falls from you,
not from me, from you, see how you scatter,
- I just swept around the house,

My mother knew how to calm us down:
"The Crumbs come to our house from heaven,
grandparents, grandmothers ask to be remembered
my dear children, it's a great pity to quarrel
or blame each other when you eat at the table,
- you know, we, people whatever place we pass
we leave behind us Crumbs,
you better call the birds to nibble at will,
and let the Crumbs also make wings.

we float freely unhindered by anyone,
only the air reaches our origin,
  - a root of a gnawed mushroom and mould plant,
- a meat animal devoured by parasites claiming white fame,

despite  existent poetic hunger haunted by virtual air,
all that brings us closer is the greed to smell each other's freedom, -

after glass wool walls (steklovata)
oil emissions enter our pores,
burn the eyeball, the words of a language,
other languages, cogitation, hesitation,
we survive in the form of particles,
biogenic dust,
finally,
free under the sun

My Dear,

How do you want me to write you?
- in the fire, on the edge of a knife,
or rolling in penguin feathers,

Do you remember those times?
- writing me with  big bird feathers,

Do not mind me,
I have enough crazy thoughts today,
an idea came to my mind,
- to learn all the tricks in the art of beggary,
Do you think it would make a difference?

Could I be the best beggar in all world,
it would be enough for me to have your mercy,
squatting all hungry in cold, freezing weather,
thirsty and sick laying down on the street corner,
hunched like the Hunchback of Notre-Dame,
or if I cut off my hands, my feet, pulling out my eyes,
if I couldn't, - If I could not,
does that mean I can't have you,

Don't pay any attention to what I say,
plus, I messed up the days,
I thought it was Friday
and maybe if I learn this art I'm talking about
your heart lets you visit me tonight,
so we can touch with our eyes, with our lips,

- better ignore me as the last beggar in the world,
ignore me as a gentleman who knows what he wants from life
and knows how to easily handle a cane and a hat in front of a street mendicant,

And yet,
I think if you were a beautiful young girl and I would be the miserable beggar,
would I succeed in winning her heart,
kiss her lips with the flattery of humility,
touch her ******* with my hands trembling from the disease of begging,
crawling at her feet and kiss them with the passion of a blind cadger,

If God came to test my talent and I would pass,
Would you receive it? - would you accept everything that was left in me,
and I, approved by the one above, to be happy with what is left in you,

Would it make a difference? - would it,

it is a shadow

of the tree
dark lighting
at the zenith of the day, tasting
the sweat on man”s forehead

the child of the sun
it is a shadow

of grass
opaque existence
angle of light
in the calmness of the earth

the child of the sun
it is a shadow, silently
following the man
to the water spring
in the valley of springs,

the mother sun
quenches its thirst
with the tears of the earth,

the child of the sun
it is a shadow