once I was no longer ashamed to look at myself, I drew near to my own side for the first time. in the night where I’ve washed and hung out my day to dry leaving the man to his sleeplessness, while the child drifts deep into a reverie perhaps I, too, might slip away, unnoticed,
THE WOMAN ON THE BALCONY Read More »
Is it me, scuffing my feet in this winter Chilly rooms, dried mulberry, dried fruit pulp, A few cantos on rotting away Spoiling of water, the city Decomposition of the light put out by the breeze.. Now turned into a hollow tree The Leopard wandering on the bombed bridges Is it me, whether I can
I felt sad for you Water cut, thin tyke, worried heart The night burnt of Gaza, evening star I cast an olive into a forsaken well What do you say, would it reach Joseph? Why on earth You are indifferent to the lament of the fig? I saw pomegranate whimpered in the huge prairie Date
We discovered the sky, the sea and the smile. We said to the wind: “Run at breakneck speed, don’t arrest yourself, run to mess the hair of the young girls that play with time. Bring on yourself the messages of hope for those who live the night; who have not the summer of life. Run
Do you remember how shyly you are when we looked into each other’s eyes. It was our apple time. The time of escapes. And we did an extraordinary one, along the sea, at night, when the heart beat accompanied its tremors. The sand shone in the moonlight, and the wave shone. Everything was close to
sometimes there is a need to take away even the shadow you need to run so fast if your voice of oh comes after you on top of it run run run after taking a breath the love calling hey does not wait since it has no shadows poetry does not wait it waves around
should we have kept being the women modigliani has seen this needs not to have been no longer what you want as i was multiplying my dreams in my twisty neck o our dreams as being elongated oh as being twisted you ought to prepare things before looking into my eyes paper pen shutter button
in the spring when the world’s stone kingdom was in place a bit of light, a bit of water a bean trying to pierce the cotton isn’t life to be a movement started by humans in the spring at the same moment hibiscus penetrated the stones on the urban pavements doggedly against humans isn’t life
in all moments in the spring Read More »
oleaster blossoms, coriander leaves poppies and books large and small many-colored stones while collecting memories for us far away from you sait faik was reminding us that the cheery season happens to be the main love making season i have my fears to be late in departing from poetry to get to love making or
“i want blood iago blood” were othello’s words should i bleed all the time to be loved men hunt for blood they harvest nosey herbs I can reach out till seeing mating monkeys all for blood all for me your aunt used to tell that the dream would be spoiled if you see blood no
