in a coffee shop
on a little coffee table
two coffee cups waiting
for forgiveness to show up

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?

Crying
Curbing
Braking
Dry branches

passing storm
leaving silent
bending branches  
hitting darkness
in your windows

I can sing
I can cry

I can sing like the mother’s lullaby
and howl like the wolf in the full moon
I can shake up dreamers in the dark

I am
the wind

the crying
the braking
the singing
the barking

I am the fright
of dry branches

bodies - fisher nests
- let the cutch go

Rockefeller Centre do you have a garbage can,
do you have an electric charger
Rockefeller Centre do you have water,
Rockefeller Centre do you have a happy life???

like a spanish fly

estranged
în melancholy
and silence

my soul

cranches everything
and all,
lives in a golden-green cantharidin world
with its (specific) strange
smell

(but I guess it's better to feel something than nothing)

When the silence penetrates the valleys,
and the darkness climbs the mountain,

When the flowering jasmine sleeps in the dry river bed, you make me feel beautiful!

There is a feeling of austerity
in the beauty you make me feel,
The beauty beyond aches,
The beauty beyond pleasure,
The beauty beyond time,
The beauty of thousand yesterdays,
The beauty of despair,
The beauty of never ending sorrow,
The beauty of life flame,

This choleric beauty you make me feel
wipes away the defences of time,

It is you making me feel beautiful!

Is not interested in observing
She is doesn’t want to be liked,
She's too young to play ”your way my way”
She doesn't care, she is cool
She sleeps at six o'clock
She dreams when you talk to her
She makes love only at night
She carries the time in her hair
She's great, she's Brilliant! she's out there,
Do you want to see her?
Find her if you can, if not
Love another, if you can

She doesn't have time to close her eyes on you,
Or touch your froggy skin,
She walks alone with the wolves
She kisses with the devils
She swims with the sharks

She is a Night Cat,
Xena, Nichita, Joan Darc,
Swiss Cheese on a white tablecloth
breathing through her own holes
next to a glass of wine
and a hand full of white grapes

She
Doesn’t care

to catch the rain on the grass crown,
bring the light closer
when
hides behind the horizon:
we also need sunset
arranging his collar,  like the lion's-mouth flower,
she looks at his chest as it rises up, down,
touches his face, soft fingers glide,
antarctica is just an ice cap,
beneath her springs flow, mountains sleep:
we must have a coincidence of floating clouds
like steam
humidity as far as embracing the desert,
calm storm,  leaves
the birds return to the nest:
- and that's all we need?

and look at the moon, see how it swallows its shadow,
to remain still until dawn appears
carolers of your *******
on my forehead
the sweat
with a thirst for death
to bury
at the root
of the grass blade
the sleeplessness

in our own homes
i want to dig up my ancestors
-ask if they are willing to change places

- ask them who we are
where we come from
and where we are going

How do you know that you take the best way when there are so many ways of being in this world of eternal music, poetry and mystery unveiling the dance of the swans and the hardship of the smith.

How do you know that you wake up for your day and not somebody else’s day and you wear your body, and carry your thoughts on your shoulders, through the mountains and hills, until you wish to reach some destination and rest down the load of the day?

Do you ask what road to walk?
when there are so many forest roads to take, how do you know, when others drive on highways, that promise to reach sooner and faster at any visioned destination.

Do you believe in destination, in a beginning and in an end, and it is not imagination creating the wholeness that already exists and you move to through it at inconceivable speed.

How do you know you do your duty and not somebody else’s duty is taken away by advice, surprise, need or greed,

How do you know that you are writing your own poem, and not somebody else’s poem founds it’s own way of touching your heart, words and mind, despite your mother’s imagery, words come to you as wizards disguised in freedom and intimacy begging your ink waking the spirit of lovers, nations or angels sleeping in sun’s rays?

How do you know that you wear your
own skin and not somebody else's skin, God’s garment for earthy flesh that swims in waters and blood on one side and touched by mountains on the other, that never can be washed and shaped like a river wish, nor tore apart and killed with your own hands as it belongs to its Creator, while you keep believing owning it as a piece of iron armour, God’s trust embodied in skin shining light back. Tell me human of ignorance and disguise, tell me, tell me,
What would you do if you would know that your skin is not your own skin?
Would you be happy, or disappointed?

How do you know your lover is your soulmate and not somebody else's soulmate
when there are so many hungry souls in this world starving and craving for the same soul and for that same love, day and night, salty tears falling on hope’s feathers
dreaming of a reunion.

Do you believe in destination, in a beginning and in an end, and it is not imagination creating the wholeness that already exists and you move through it at inconceivable speed.

How do you know what road to walk
when there are so many forest roads to take when others drive on highways, that promise to take them sooner and faster at any visioned destination.

How do you know that your dream is your own dream and not somebody else's dream at night’s taking shape of bridges, stairs to
rainbows and brides, fairies flying over rivers of kisses at the black sea, embracing lovers sleeping in fields of yellow flowers.

Oh, Life are you the one, or are you the many? How do you know?

Hannon,
felt superior  to the very nature of all things, and he found a way how to prove it.

“Why staying bound
by humanness,
while I am better
than anyone else”

With his own money,
Hannon bought a flock of birds
and raised them up in a dark place,
very dark place,
teaching them how to sing one song
named “ Hannon is God”,
This is all they’ll sing in the dark.

When Hannon considered
the birds learned the song,
he let them fly free,
believing his own song
“Hannon is God”
would spread everywhere
and would be heard by everyone.

He let them free,
the next moment
the free birds forgot Hannon’s song.

They flew free,
and song their own birdsong
to this day

You made love feel so beautiful,
so wonderful, and so difficult to have,
when all is left is burning hope,
when all is felt is pain and despair.

and the days seem lightless,
and the nights are darkless,
and the dreams are dreamless,
carrying it higher and higher.

waiting for the september leaves to fall,
waiting for the rain dressing in snowflakes,
waiting for the wildflowers to grow
in between jagged rocks perennial love.

Why God,
When spring comes love’s back in the sky?

i still admire her as i used to admire a flower,
i still dream of her as only the muses dream
to the stars, and beyond
still,
she seems quite aerial,
pretty, neat in that little red dress
mulatto,
i admire how she curves, how burns like a firework
on her high heels,
elegant,
looks strong like a sultan,
attractive as in the "dolce&gabbana" commercials
looks like she knows what she's doing,
i admire her like a fool and wonder:
will she let me touch her zipper,
to draw butterflies on her belly button,
to let her fly free like a monarch again
on a distant island to dream of spring-waters, and
gather wild flowers with hair in the wind,
to be the mistress of the winds

In the winter i'll come
I'll come to you in the winter -
                                            In the winter I'll come,
Like a flake, i'll fall in your palms,

In the winter i'll come,
Galloping on the white wind, in my hair, to hold you,
                                    With the horizon waving,

Don't go, don't go,
I will come, don't forget me,
I am lost among strangers,
                            I'll come, wait for me -
Like a tear, i'll drop from the sky
                    to kiss your warm cheeks,

Whisper to me again - eternity,
                                      I'll come, wait for me,
In the winter, i'll fall,
                    Like a flake, i will fall in your palms
I'll melt

whoooo is there behiiind the skyyy,
whoooo is there behiiind the cloooouds,
and the suuuun when briiiightly shiiiining,
whoooo is there behind the niiiight,

whoooo is there behiiiiind, behiiiind,
whoooo is there my deeeear, my daaaarling,
whooo is there behiiiind the staaaars,
whooo is there behiiiind the staaaars,

whoooo is there behiiiind the raaaain,
when the drops fall dooown and dooown,
who is there behind your miiiind,
whoooo is there my deeear, my daaaarling,

who is there behind the skyyy,
whoooo is there behiiind the cloooouds,
who is there in your heeeeart,
who is there behiiind, behiiind,
whooooooo is there if noooot the wiiiiind,

whooo is there if nooot the wiiind,
whoo is there if not the wind,

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.

i hide you under my skin
                                 like a war archive, -  a secret code,                    
is not hard at all, it comes naturally, like drawing, or
tyquando,
there is no dominance in the heartbeats market,
without rehearsing twice, they ripe like peaches,
waiting for the next wave to tear apart every cell,

*my love,
like an ingrown toenail , you are hiding under my skin, -
just because we use the same room,
                              hiding and escaping is not the same thing

i felt you'd come back,
there's no other way
I know her, she likes to cool off in the soft white snow,

with the hand on my heart, I swear,
at the new moon, you are my only lover,
i see her in your lips, as sharp as  fantasy swords,
in them, you have me sweet like blood,

why wait for cactus arms to grow,
and the next flowers to bloom,
  cut the juicy, thorny fruit, red pulp,
we won't wait for the pollination,
days are made for farmers, not  lovers,
how bright, you write, that want to kiss my photo,
but what a photo is? my love, what? if not just paper,
let's bloom in less than twenty-four hours,
let's make them all, all saguaro flowers, die from jealousy and envy,
with hate and madness to **** the desert,

i'll come at night, disguised (as a mexicano bat)
let's make the night our heaven
and the new moon, a snowflake that falls in your olive eyes

(although, once i loved a man with wolf eyes)

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)

poetry at war with time

i close my eyes
to see you i close my eyes,
the world suddenly is leaving
entirely
is leaving, of its  own accord, is leaving,
    is falling like an eyelid, tired
on the keys of a piano, the stillness of the morning covers us,  white
white,
bleached by the winter, waiting for the pious sound,
waiting
for the snowdrops to bloom

to dig and dig,  to trace  endless chains of causes and effects,
to dig and dig seems as foolish as trying to build a castle from sand and hope that will touch the sky,

running all our lives

looking for that one person

the person who understands us

every bright future is a wind whisper,
a caress of the ray,
every touch in the palm is a getaway for  flying words,
each word, like a *****, wears two white lines and one black,
a life spent in thought, not to withdraw in etilic sevraj, from time to time
raises the glass to taste the words  with its mouth, cheers ... cheers ...
silence,
confessing,  silence
silence,
forgiveness,
every forgiveness is a lucid grave,
a grave clear as water that  watches the angels as they grow wings and fly,
they rise and rise to unclog the springs from the air,  unearth the  sunset
and embrace the light like a newborn at the mother's breast,
every death has a mother, every death has a father.

i can't touch you,
i'm forbidden to touch you,
to think of you, to sigh
          but i can see the seagulls
flying over the sea
            and screaming
                                and flying
i see how the waves are throwing stones at them
                                                    and they don't look back,

i”m forbidden to look into your eyes
but i can bathe in them like a tear,
and touch your warm cheeks,
until i drown in leaves,
i'm forbidden to kiss you,
but i can look for the summer,

i'm not allowed to touch you,
to sigh,
but i can smell you like an orchid
born without laws, without oaths,
before the sphinx man,
born of steam and smoke,

look, they overpopulate the earth
shooting "arrows" covered in pollen,
                                                        i­­n all directions

is real,
one more time,
no, no, no
yes, yes, yes

and then listen, and die,
and sing, listen, and die,
and cry,
sing, listen, and die,
quickly
lips
coming down and down like a thunderlight, all
the time, as you would stand with one leg  on the ground
and the other one lifts up like when you kiss for the first time, like in 60”s, and
arms arms arms,
round round round,
lips lips lips,
kiss kiss kiss,

below the sky,

tears tear tears,
falling and falling  and falling

below the grassroots,

în our hearts
we make honey in our hearts, we make honey from our dreams we make honey
and now we can trade them on our roads,
we can trade them on our roads like we would trade the most expensive menu  in a restaurant

the sky tonight is green
as if
the darkness falls, upon awakening from one dream to another,
swallowing our hearts
to make stars
without fear to taste the hights,
without hearts, we turned yellow like corn on the side of the road,
in the distance
skilled stripper, aurora borealis sheds her clothes,
astonished
i watch her
the drums ruffle its feathers

like a sleepy bird
the sky reddened by so much night
falls&sleeps on the branches

souls occupy themselves with trifles

it is covered by fall leaves
and washed by the rain
hit in the hard rocks by
the ocean waves

the earth sinned yesterday

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

We'll have to choose dear
we shall
to choose not between the colors of the sky or the earth,
religion and God
We must pick it up dear, we must
pick
not the stars of the night, nor the flowers of the day,
secretly, my darling, secretly
we shall
extract this tear from the past that never left
and  didn't even start like a lightning
without death
and no answer, we shall, my  dear
begin with ”the end”, like on the big set of paramount pictures,
let's put this spiky cat on the wall
and return, free and happy, like the first people,
ladybug,
carry me on your palms, darling
i”ll hold you close to my chest like an armful of dry branches
good for fire

you swim, as if you were an amphibious man,
you catch her, the fire ignites,
she burns like a good lye wood,
the salt and ashes  sleep  between your fingers,
a Fairy brings the spring water to your gate,
you sip  from her palms
(with a thirst of a fish drowned in its own brine)

The fairy puts words on your lips,
calls you by name, you reach the shore,
with  eyes, wide opened you  look in the dream book,
you realize, - there is no escape
big nuisance, "I'm touched by a drop of wax"
you'll never be what you used to be
the rain takes a cold shower on you

You run outside and sit on the roadside bench,
Finally,
You see how little John and Mary play in the rain puddle with a paper boat.

I am thinking to invite you for a cup of tea

      i  imagine how
                            slow
                                    the teapot will boil
                                                              on the stove

the steam will colonize the air in the room ~
                                                          conquer the silent walls

politely
          we’ll sit near the window at the little oak table
will
    support our elbows,
                                    hands ~  the chins,
    face-to-face,
                          like a frozen perfume
                                                            in the air,
reading into each other's eyes
                                                  ~ the dreams

after,
        watching how the leaves are falling
                                                                as if fainting

Headlines  
Everyday
Telling you what to do

...
~

You do it wrong!
You can't speak, you do it wrong,
You can not dream,
You can not feel,
You do it wrong,
You can't write, you forgot to put a coma, your spelling is wrong,
Mistakes are embarasing!
You are an analphabet,
They  will slap your hands,
And put you in the corner so everyone can laugh at you.

She grabbed me by the hair hit the writing board and washed the floor with me.

I jumped up like a frog and  stabbed her ******, evel eyes, and stabbed her ugly face with my gaze.
That was the first time in my life when I felt hate. I was seven years old.
I screamed:  you are a witch, not a teacher!  -  great one, September, I just started school and I already hated  it.

She kicked me out of the class.

If i knew how to swear probably i would”v: ******* ugly beach!
******* ugly beach! ******* ugly beach!

In my head I was done with school. It gave me so much relief.

I run to the library.

The library smelled nice, in a mysteriouse way.

The librarian asked me if I have a class.
I told her: -  I finished school.
She blinked smartly and mimicked as if believed me:
- Do you want to pick a book and read?  
- Yes, I can read!
She gave me a book  and I started reading it loud, with intonation as I saw on tv writers were reading:
- You read like a poet, - and smiled.

*

Whatever are those people in your life: parents, teachers, friends that work for evil,
Some would tell you: we have only one menu, and you have to eat it. Oppressed will spread oppression! Do not listen to them!

Do not believe them! No matter who they are and how powerful they consider themself, they are not your authority! 
 Evil takes many shapes and forms to blind you to steal your dreams and strength.

Oppressed will spread oppression! Do not listen to them!
Look into the future! And know that You are a treasure.
There is always a chance and hope waiting for you after the corner!
There is always more to life than evel!

a man wanted to pass through me, and i was sleeping as if i had left the present world, i was carried so deeply away, and i saw his eyes,
he had small black eyes, elongated like two cheetahs,
like a willow that is just beginning to turn green it bent towards me
he left his hand on my left shoulder as if it were water,
he touched me gently as you would touch a drunken man who had fallen into a ditch and for fear of not scaring his death or the ditch, for fear of not disturbing, you would touch him with a kind of respect, you would shake him gently, gently, with love-in-the-eyes you would rock him and rock him as if you were rocking a baby in a cradle of bread like in the old days
with the astonishment of the mortal to whom the stars are not so well arranged, you stop stiffly as if by this pretty treatment, even so dead, you would still want to take something from him,
stiff as a mummy with two coins on the eyes, you look at him, from that moment you are the gambler,
but
as i was telling you, last night a man came to pass through me and i was deeply asleep, after which like a fool i turned to the other side and took him by the hand to do the rolling, like a  roll of fabric we rolled, we kept rolling ...
and now he also has his  night like mine where he sleeps deeply deeply away
like forgetting
until he reaches the other side...

Some virtual friends,
virtual family,
brothers,
virtual sisters could not find me today: where did you get lost,
do you live in the forest, at the end of the world,
has any catastrophe happened?
the green dot does not appear, you don't blow hearts in the air,
balloons,
the kittens are fewer and fewer on fb:

My dear virtual friends,
dear virtual family,
what can i say or write you,
suppose a catastrophe had happened or would happen,
i think (i'm a human)
what could i write you from all that catastrophe, and how much, and
how, and
whence, and
how could i tell you that i need a glass of water, if i needed one,
how could i tell you that i need a crutch, if i needed one,
who to look for, how to find you, call the ambulance,
firemen,
how
and how much, and where, and
how could i hug you, and
could you hug me??
*
My dears,
don't worry,
i am in good health: i watered the flowers, i walked the dog
i did the laundry (like any other person),
i cooked a lot of food this weekend, like at home
i cooked enough for twenty people,

Don't worry my dears,
i am in good health,
it's just that day today,
i missed people
people,
real
people.

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




. |

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

~ 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 pray, when you are exploiting every inch of their skin in hidden forms of slavery,

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

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

Use it!
Not to give you what you want,
but free another heart from pain.

Use it!
As an act of selfless blessing of
appreciation only you can transmit.

Use it!
As a reminder to others of how much they are valued,
some of us have been waiting for a long, long time to hear it.

Use it!
With the sincerity of heart,

Turn it!
Into a selfless Offering!

I woke up with my eyes full of dreams,
I reached out to hold you
you were no more,
no pillow,
nor your gillette smell,
nor your lazy steps,
you were no longer a bohemian poet as you were then in Paris, at midnight,

you became a constructor,  I saw you collecting stones,  building a home on the edge of the world,
you have 3 children, a wife and a goat,
everything is solved,

I made myself a coffee, I sip,
Joep Beving sings "paris s'enflamme",
like a falling leaf, I sip,
without getting lost in thought,
without saying a word,
the rain washes the oaks frowning with old age,
everything is clean like when you are born,
like when you cry and the tears wash your cheeks,
only the roots are curled up, twisted&drunk in the ground,
taking care not to put the forest to sleep, not to bleed,
how simple life is in the light,
how simple everything is,

I finished the coffee&looked at it  for a long time,
only the grounds remained,
when you think how much the bitterness of this Brazilian drink awakens your appetite,
I don't read in it, I throw it in the trash, and
like a snake, crawl under the feather duvet,
I lie down in the egg,
what's left for you to do after the night has stolen the pearl from under your tongue,
sleep further in the pretzel hole,
far far away from the rain and all these frills, masquerade, hoarse poems,
and I say to myself: - how simple everything is,
how simple life is

it is always the same
restless and sad
one for all, like the sun
like the moon
flowers
tears

only the words change

let us go,

let us go, gentle,

let us go tender,

and do not ask where, and do not speak with anyone
when,
let's leave this ridiculous time and leave these ridiculous hearts
and let the yellow fog do the dance and imitate the night
for us
blind turtles lost in fields,  half asleep and half awake,
if what i hear is true, let's pass the pinning world, white teeth,
no one could guess, where, and when we have a place to kiss,
a place to love,
let us go, darling, and climb on turtleback like those without legs,
like those without eyes,
without a place to go
let's leave and
move slowly, darling, and move gently, and tender, and
careful
let's move like we don't go anywhere

we need more hospitals

i say, we need Mothers

they tell me, we need more money

i say, we need Mothers

they tell me, we need more schools

i say, we need Mothers

they tell me, we need war, revolutions, power

i tell them, we need Mothers, we need Mothers
Mothers we need,  Mothers
i scream,  we need Moooothers

penn station

walking out

the crowd
&skyscrapers
&the heat
advertising lights

all hit us straight in the face

everyone seems to be easy-busy
&very nice

exited like rabbits
  enjoying the new new york era:

rickshaw bikers are welcoming us

I read Zygmunt Bauman, but I think of the Aeneid and
                                                                  the seven years of wandering, and
the Nashua river that keeps flowing beside me, and the storm from last night, and
the tree blown down, which is still on the ground, lying  as if it was tired and went to sleep,
the only difference now is that the roots stand with their mouth opened up speaking with the clouds,
                                waiting for the rain, waiting for the night,
begging