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

that's right, I like rats.
I like them because they're not fussy
They don't turn their nose and they eat anything:
they don”t wonder if it's healthy, organic, ...

- They're not like moths either,
eating only furs, wool, natural silk,
rats eat plastic or chew gum,
the incisors grind
without grinding their teeth
during the day,
or at night,

- they adapt  easily in any home,
it doesn't have to be luxurious,
in the country or in the city,

- when moving to a new home
the first thing they do, - they multiply as quickly as possible,
conquering new territories,… they are many, "where there are many… there are many"

- I really 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 hole life,

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

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

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

this is it, not my fault that I like rats
because they're not fussy,…

my love,

just give me this day,
                                   as if we are airplanes, parading, and
flying in between the clouds,
                               gray sky,
clooooouuuuuuds,
like in those black-and-white (II war) documentaries,


i promise,
               not to add other colors to them,
why should i,
                     when the original is the original,  and
it has to remain original,


my love, what is the point in watching colored war movies,
when Africa, like a fire,  was coughed up in the middle

Letter to my Deer
Thunder Bay, On
13th of June, 2013

My Dear,

I have been thinking for a long time about writing this letter to you. Only, every time I enter the writing room I feel how words abandon me into the hands of past memories. I feel deserted in front of still uncoated paper, and titanium pen waiting and waiting for the battle of my feelings.

I hope you understand and forgive me!
Since I left, much has been changed in my life.

Today,
I sit here in silence and wonder if it will rain.
The sunlight scattered in all directions
and clouds piled up covering the sky with a foggy blanket.

I sit quietly here
and watch how vapours are competing on my pale skin
for the arid spot to get in.

I hope it will start raining soon,
As it has been dry and hot since the new moon.

You know I always delighted in
touching fresh black soil with my eager hands
moving through its richness and leaf blades.

If aunty Larisa didn’t tell you,
I let you know, I moved inland and planted a garth.
I work hard from morning till night
being fond of every little progress,
at sunrise, I put up my sleeves,
spray the roses, and pull the weeds,
sensing the presence of a lost wind,
and watching how the greenwood
guards as an unnoticed hero.
It is soothing and comforting.

I even had a dream one night,
How the garden was in full bloom
waiting for you to come soon,
You were driven by grace
coming from a forest’s place,
the sun showed its shiny teeth,
and my heart froze when thee
gently leaned and smelled the rose,
as if you didn’t want to steal forest’s piece,
selflessly giving all of your attention
to the invisible fragrance.

Still in my dream,
Next spring I planted some chiefs,

I hope to hear from you soon,
My Deer,

The Gardener

we learned to sit like birds on a wire,
the bicycle,
unicycle, the backward somersault,
the front somersault, the chair on the wire,
the bed on a cloud,
seated in a hyperloop toilet,
69,
96 in an 8,
jumping through hoops: what we are doing here?
it looks almost unreal, so
we started to reinvent the wire, like emil cioran,
we reinvented insomnia and
the otherness …

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,

broken
surroundings
hidden
underneath
discrete skins
flat spots
drowning in
superficial
layers of
constricted
capillaries
walls
embed in
bleached skin

made of
salty tears
and eggshell
crystals
cutting out
the wafting
of diurnal
light-blue
ozone

resistant
coating
burning on
crusted
cheek
beneath
thin
recalcitrant
cuticles

forcing into
lamping
layers of
red-blue-
purple-yellow-
green-white-
ecchymosis
symptoms
just­if­ying
on its own

the best thing on earth is when you breathe
and the night, like a lollipop lures you, by bringing you sweet sleep,  sometimes
and  other times taking it away,
and when you're alone and taxes don't scare you anymore,
and  the rent no longer is waiting for you, the wife is threatening no one,
children stopped screaming, we want, dad doesn't leave but he doesn't wake up either,
the best thing is God, -  God takes you in his arms like a man patched up with love
and you close your eyes and dream how the best thing on earth is to breathe freely

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?

it's sad. but happy.
lonely. but not the only one,
a spark of calmness. but a blister of days.
light waiting for the ****** night.
the joy of. what also grows life. to be meaningless.

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

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

no matter the severity of the drama,
the severity of the fall, be dignified, as a buen maestro,
walk with dignity through the film of your own drama,

for that sort of entertainment, you will need to give up on something,
  lie down on the floor and respiro,  respiro,  respiro …
more respiro,
                       floating
letting go,
let it flow ... for your own soul,
for your own soul drama is honey,
drama is money
be dignified, you are a Star

I look into the deep earth,
and I have eyes, and I have depth,
I have speed, as I am earth moving through earth from all perspectives, apparently, I think and I know,
but how do I reach there? at Prospect Mira,
I asked auntie Liudmila,
while she was selling sunflowers at
Lyublinsko station, and I was running to catch up my breath beyond the boundaries in which has been conceived, while the worldly murals violate the norms and  “The Idiot” reaches greatness on the Moscow walls silhouettes wrestling on a mortal terrain; his umbra, my umbra. Whose and which, and when? I simplify it down to the breath and keep running. What a rush?

When the night falls,
and no one’striking with an eye,
My restless horses rove
with the wild Siberian winds,
Their whinnying voices call me,
Voices call me, and I scream!

Slowly, Slowly, my horses!
Do not fly into the wild winds,
Please! Slowly, don’t you see,
I didn’t have time to live!      

Understand me, my horses,
Let me sing! One more song!
Feel my deepest yearning,
for you and for the lost time.

For no time to laugh,
and for no time to cry,
For no time to love,
and no time to touch a
weeping heart.

Please! Listen, my horses,
Do not hurry! Voices call me,
Oh, how you can ride so fast?
Follow my solace in y’footsteps,
Ride on my waters, and
I’ll drink y'golden promise.

Take me on your winter sleigh,
Amble along, dance your shyness
in the wildest Siberian snow flurry,
and I’ll sing you my only song,
“I am not a prisoner.”

Let me sing! One more song!
and I’ll bring’y the apple from heaven,
and I’ll kiss you one last time,
when no one hits with an eye.

Carry me my dear horses,
Slowly, like this, Slowly, please!
When no one hunts in the sky,
and the hungry wind’s blindsight.

Please! My horses,
Slow down, Slow, Slow down,
I am loosing my powers,
and I didn’t have time to live! 

The show comes to the end,
and I can’t hear you galloping,
and I can’t see your cavalcade,
the show comes to the end,
and I lose your reins in the wind.

Please! My horses,
slow down, move slow, listen,
Please!
I didn’t have time to live!

Love your children!
Love your children sincerely
And groom them with Godly love,

Don't punish them
When bread crumbs fall out
Of their mouths
On the polished floor,
Don't put your blame on them,
Do not  use small things
To beat them,
Don't steal their innocence,
And purity of Self,
Don't blame them,

Pray!
Better pray!
Not for polished floors,
But for their fragile souls,
When they hid and cry
In the upstairs room,
Where the bird stoped
to build its nest,

Pray!
To find their own  purpose
In the flow of life!
Love your children!

Love sincerely, without disguise
Encourage them with gentle words,
And guide them with good works,
Listen when your children speak!
Then you know what to ask,
Ask, what do they think, what do they want,
Don't impose your adult thoughts on them,
Raise your children in self-respect,
The greatest treasure of life,
Self-respect rests
In listening to your children
Dear Parents,

The child is a human like you

Be a parent with eyes and ears
Don't just think about what
You mean, and judge,
You are not the owner of the child,
You are the guide,

The  children are  humans like you,
They came here not for your will,
Not for you, for them, they know better,
And they feel better than you,
And they see better than you,
And don't laugh and shame them
When they speak the truth
And don't scold them
in front of strangers,
Learn from them too!

Ask them!
Ask them how do they feel,
Be the mirror of clear water,
The water where they can see
The brightness of their faces,
Don't force them to admire you
Only you,
Grow them in a clear light,
Give them love as a parent
And don't look to
See yourself in them,

Do not use the child!
Do not use the child!
To exalt yourself in glory,
Give them love as a parent,

Understand how it feels when you put
Your own expectations in them,
Don't ruin their dreams
With your own desires
Don't ruin their life and search
your dreams to come true,

Understand how do they feel
when you force them to think like you,

Children are the miracle of God,
Pure light in the stream of life,
God entrusted you
Grow them with love,
Let them think for themselves!
Let them be for themselves!
Encourage them to make
small decisions at an early age,
Give them space to practice
Self-being, self-respect,
Life fills them with its calls,
Be present with a hug,
Don't force them  to live your destiny,
As they have their own destiny to fulfill!

Cultivate self-respect!
Let them  fill their own  life
given by the will of God!

Otherwise,
Children will lose themselves in us,
Who wants a lost child?
A lost child that will seek
Him/Herself/ Themselves for a lifetime,
No one!
Life doesn't want lost children,
Lost children from their own roots,

The time has come
Be kind to your children!

Captain Hook
i know, you've got scars that can be seen with an open eye,
and yet, when i look at your long curls like stalactites, i wonder
why don't you tell me more,
i know for sure, you'll have fun seeing my relatives,

hope the numbness in your right hand is gone,
it's one thing when peter pan cuts your left and quite another
when you die with the sword in your right,

are there eyes bluer than the sky to see through the waves
and salt
when i bite your nails, devotee,
when my lips cover your lips, silently (the only way to survive)

but if your right hand dies how will you carry your cross,
how are you going to gather yourself at one point when
the pinky/ring fingers sit nicely in the middle of the palm like yin/yang,
forget-me-nots,

Note: Mr. Hook, if you really want something the desire must be greater than the column of infinity or the tip of your nose.

It guards between unseen and understood,
shaped by pain and pleasure, holding
the instrument of artwood in one hand,
success and failure in another,
its significance is never shaped by
knowledge and fame, and
it never pours us rain, it needs
the sensitivity of an artist and
the hands of a craftsman to enter
it's unforeseeable beauty
it never comes too early and
it never comes too late, and if it comes,
it never comes to solve the puzzle,
it only blends the light and darkness,
it guards between unseen and understood,
receiving the elusive soothe, imagination
twisting its ordinary space midway.

they are invisible
there are always bridges
across the chasm,

Rain is washing its tears
from your longing promises
with the spray of the sea
vanishing on ***** winds.

Rain is washing its tears
from your salty kisses
with cuddly shadowy trees
and thirsty green leaves.

Rain is washing its tears
from your sweet words
with poetic unvoiced verses
drunken by unknown love.

Rain is washing its tears
from your burning pain
with the rays of the sun
drops’smile in flowers beds.

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.

it's enough to breathe
to touch you

it's enough to breathe
let your voice sing

it's enough to breathe
to see you come and go
walk like an angel

it is snowing

slow
monotonous snow
with the patience of a lazy bear
it falls
across the church (now, an antique shop)
on the left, the abandoned house, tonight, wishes
may she also be seen by the stones, like a miner
has a light on its forehead,
in front of our house, the bulb lights burn  and
are in competition with the farm on the hill,
the snow settles comfortably on every single  tree,
I wonder,  scientifically, how much snow can a tree hold,
but some twigs?
I pray for the snow  to keep falling,
the roofs, you  would say, are kufi hats thrown from the sky,
we don't know when it will snow again,
the world is gossiping: global warming, the earth is heating up,
I think it's the other way around, the sky warmed up again
and the earth is cold
cold,
as if embalmed to stop its decomposition

*

the sky, as usual
sacrifices itself

it is snowing  white-gray

snowing

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

Each one sat on a bane rock, facing
how silence installed in the most disabusing way.

It was convenient, and conning ...

Burned by the sun,
Waiting,
In the middle of the day,
Waiting,
Nowhere to go,
It has been dry for a while
and I pray “Rainy rain
fall on me, and fall on him,
fall, fall, fall ... if not
I’ll be the rain,
and he'll be the earth,
falling into each other secrets”

I’ll be his fresh rainfall,
His clime and his
Every season to come,
when burned by the sun,
earthy earth,
sip me all
when runoff on
sharp-bright
crispy skin.

Drink me,
deeper, and deeper
into his colourful roots
where dryness cheers
humusy kisses,
shower his face with
tender driblets of
sweet promises and
roses will never fade away
on his chest, 
in the midday,

Burn the rain down where the secrets are,
where the trees and large bushes survive,
and high winds have only one way.

I’ll take rainy droplets away
and fall over again when his
Burned by the sun,
Waiting in the middle of the day,
Nowhere to go,
But hiding in the rain when
Burned by the sun.

in the same dream-like spell,
in the name  of now,
in stones
we bury the past alive,

for we shall dance with the birds,
swim with the fish,
walk like monkeys, kissing the earth,
kissing the earth as if
is the last lover,
below the last horizon

it's not hard to touch you,

he asked me:
- did you hear the winds last night,
and how the tender branches bent on you
like wings,

i reached home late,
fed the dog,
sipped camomile tea,
covered with stardust,
and drifted away, like an echo, will

Connect to God

and you are right there

because where else could we go?

Eyes lost
in waiting,
Silently
looking in vain,
Despite it,
He kept them
widely opened,
Carefully,
Silently,
He put it away
on the old
wood table.

Carefully,
refolding
his courage
lifting up
ferrous arms
stripping
Carefully,
a tinny piece,
rolling himself
in still noise
a cigarette of
Powerful
low-graded
rustika,
a variety of
great purge
hunger
killing
good reason,
one pack a day
helped.

It helped survive
the cold,
and everyday
toil when
soldiers and ants
starved,
Makhorka,
insecticide
of freedom.

Silently,
looking in vain,
Despite it,
He kept them
widely opened,
Carefully,
Silently.

I can tell, I am falling in love, while dancing rock and roll
cause, where I come from we don't dance rock and roll,
and it has been about time to hold hands in  Sokolnikov choir
and dance rock and roll,
me and you on a wire.

but
to get to you
i need Maria
to take me
on the water
her legs
to touch the ground
for me to fly
her hands embrace the wind
for me to caress your cheeks
with the palm
to part your hair like a path
as lips touch your forehead
to taste the fire of today
i need Maria
to bring me to you

Why?

Do you treat me this way,  -  a place for burial,  
Why do you treat me  -  like i’m nobody  - ?  
-  With you being someone  -

Don’t you feel? -
- how i’m breathing underneath your feet,

Don’t you feel?  -  i’m a living nest  -  the birthing of new life,  
-  With the seed in my womb  -  i’m crying!  -  Why?

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

when you watch the shadow crawl from the floor to the wall,
a branch falls,
the dawn crushed in the palms fades,
the spiral of smoke despairs of its own act,
not to enter your sight, moves aside,
evolution worked on these blue eyes for millions of years, no joke,
you follow every move
like a spy
the shadow returns:
- be wild again, dive into the green water
sunlit,
with the arrow in the back,
call your arms, shout, swim,
she is a tide in the chest,
just a tide,
the moon an ellipse end, a chain,
it spins around his axis
like a hub,
the waters break the sky, bleed between the thighs,
innocence lets us see the valleys beneath her feet,
don't let your lungs melt into smoke like a forgotten spring
out of air,

like grass,
tender and gentle
the spring draws its life from the graves,
out of mourning,
that's why the murmur resembles a cry,
a sigh,
and thirst,
hunger,
and the river smooths the stream,
and the wind settles on your cheek, waits
a feather to fall on your head,
in the abyss
waiting for you to look at the sky, amazed, to ask: - who is hitting me,
who hits me every time i try to find solace,
refuge,
serenity,

when you watch the shadow crawl from the floor to the wall,
the murmur elevates any escape to the rank of genius

Today,
I plainly could see your infinite demure.

Today,
I understood your yearnings for bluejays and loons.

Today,
You cuddled me with all your splendor and virtue.

Today,
You loved me as your own child.

Today, Canada
I am crying with tears of joy.

criminal touch,        infractor that kills on paper,
torment me,
                    torment me,
                                        and let me dream of you,
- have you below the air

      i will  fall on my knees, like a leaf, when
the earth cracks from one end to the other, half awake,
half asleep,
        let me learn your firmness,  drown my eyes in every word,
- a blind man, with the tip of my  fingers i read your blood,
                                                          ­                    your lips -
chaotic, whispering:  - what a calligraphic writing, organized and
without mistakes,

let your rigor entice me, like a spear piercing you,
          passing through the air                        until we become experts,
specialists in criminal law

you nestling in my heart, insatiable thief, childish sigh,

you make me drunk with your lusts that suspend the moment,

you write, … write, … you listen, - the gramophone sings,

under the waltz of roses, I laugh, - I dance - I float - I fly like a bee

I gather you from thorns, from flowers, in the sea breeze I caress you,

I  absorb the honey of your thoughts, I embrace you, I embrace you

I embrace you I embrace you I embrace you… windy breeze,

we float, in the unknown light we die we die

we die, … we die dancing in live poetry, untamed light

you nestling in my heart, and then you make me cry.

Today,
I just wanna die in your arms,

I hope that you took the CPR course
to save me!

You Majestic Swaying Palm!
Bending with discrete respect
in the breezing sea with ageless patience,

With Ageless Patience,
You Exhibit your Slenderness,

for those that seek to taste your fruit,
and Wondering in Solitude,
for those naked men and their wishes,
for those naked men and their hopes
to climb and touch your crown,

You Majestic King!
Evergreen and Ever-Present!
Shooting life against the evening stars,   
Declaring Victory
over the noisy world and dreamy sea.

on a wild coast of melancholy

and poetic catabolism

wondering in your own shell

when the muse is journeying

to forbidden places

and the secrets hid deep in the clouds

keeping eyelashes like sneaky foxes

out of what has been lost

and out of what has been found

hot sun is freezing your poetry

in lost beams oysters marvel

at their own shines

until pearls are to be found

you keep on wondering

One little hand could not stop the cup from
dropping like a giant on the country wood floor,

“We need a cup factory in this home” I hear the voice of frowning walls

In a fraction of a second, I am the child that breaks the cup.

I want to hide when mother’s voice flows like a honey river
“Leave the child alone, don’t you see that the cup asks for mother’s love”

O,  broken cup filled with mother's love
on the country wood floor.
You loved the child,

“darling take the broom and clean the floor,
when walking no one gets hurt.
Let me know if you do need help”

Her soft voice makes the broom dance and sing, and
the wood floor clean, shining back love to all children that ever broke
the cup,

all we need for lifelong doves is a broken cup
glued with mother's love

At the bottom of the earth,
Where the mother of the wind lives,
and the flowers of the graves
spin the yarn of wick thoughts.  

At the bottom of the earth,
Where butterflies flap their wings
on the paths of bungling scalpers,
hoping that the mother typhoon’ll move the sand grain of barren spirit.

At the bottom of the earth,

The mother of the wind is senseless,

The mother of the mountain fires life and forges death,

The mother of the sea’s whirling its flow upstream,

The mother of the winter unfreezes
the wings of the blizart on the icy stones,

The mother of the roses draws breath
from the fragrance of grief,

The mother of the wildernes’burning
the roots of thirst,

The mother of the black sea’sipping life from palmier trees,

The mother of the moon running trough iron clouds, like nebula through the light,

The mother of the earth gives, and gives, and gives,
Gives you everything you need,

At the bottom of this earth,
Only you human are dreaming to stay caved in eternity.

you,
gentle beast
touching my skin like King Midas

me,
excavating your iced eyes and
devouring them raw with tenderness
and overindulgence

On an old seashore,

you are a monk in sacred clothes,

bowing slowly to forgotten

in the goodness of the night,

giving new life to your dreams

I am your Somnolence Queen,

and invite the sister moon

touch your eyelids, touch your light

drifting, drifting, drifting burdens

golden, golden, golden  stars

falling, fallin, falli, fall, fall, fa, f, ...

on your brrriiiggghhhttt sleeeping

forehead sleeeeeep, sleeeeeeping  deeeeeep,

I am your Somnolence Queen,

the reality
of papet figurines
has collapsed
at the most invisible touch

fresh crumbles fluffing on a graded road
propelled  by the calcified touch of a heel-flipped flesh
looking through the cracked heel,
thank god, floating vapors calm the thirsty flensed skin

In the field of unknown light,
Vibrates your pure breath,
Your will always shines in the hearts,
You, only you fill the earth with dreams,
Tender fire in the care of humility,

Hills, valleys and dew in words
The rain of illusions and desire
You fill us in the emptiness of the night,
You, clear breath, get us drunk
With your unearthly existence,

Forest with flowers full of nectar,
Kneeling poet”s shadow in his dream,
A divine mother who gives us zeal for life,
You are not a single gust of wind,
In your breath, the poet finds the light,

You open our eyes to the grace of life,
Your forehead is a starless sky,
Blue sky planted in meekness,
You, vitreous humor, the falling star
In the dreamy ocean of fresh breath.

Sky’s feathers
shedding on earth’s
burned umber skin
in a drifting dance spelling
away the winds,
with penetrating kisses
slowing down earth’s temper,
cooling in between its layers,
touching gently its crisp
unfreezing its heart,
bringing back on earth
the sublime.

Snowflakes
Make the earth feel loved by the sky

That's why,
I believe in snowflakes,
Even if you would say,
anyway, they melt.

thin pale grass
competing with the
big, strong tree roots
pushed to the surface
from below the ground

below the ground
there are secrets

heavy clay
compacted soil
striving for moisture and air

below the ground
there are secrets.

we cut the tree roots
remove the grass
plant a new garden

below the ground
there are reasons