no light that shines on us have we seen, how many where does our path lead grant me a courage my moonlight child our top did not spin with a child’s mouth we said morality and poetry, for now on a tightrope we rock the world in a flurry into the dove’s nest we
The Letter I Carry Read More »
Before you, it knew nothing untied it to the honey dripping from your tongue to the white mountain where it would one day bury gods her wave-rippling, foaming red hair Take it out to skies whose sulfur has faded, lock it in inns choke it in smoke, spill its dust-stars into its boxes The
Tell Me Your Name First Read More »
I I sat down with myself upon my weight, scowled at by stone and soil upon the ebb-and-flow stairs I looked at a gentle letter with a hurt gaze at its soothing wind It is time to go while the rain has started it is time to leave a smile to wet memories
A Handful of Pollen Read More »
What does God know of the bee’s bells that make the rose tremble the exceptional flavor upon the wings of the sun deeper still, the sorcerer fish in the net What does He know of the salt drawn into the forgotten statue of the ash pile that comes to temper without being touched
The battle within me is about to be ceased and my heart is going to be broken once more ! Who wins or who loses or who will celebrate the victory, Now it doesn’t matter at all when both the sides have nothing to be restored ! Then, I do not know why this war
Oh poet! Weave the clothes of poetry by the threads of life; Perhaps, there are many, choose what’s worth living and worth writing! But Life, indeed, has many colors; Do not forget to add those that broke you too for they’re the ones that weave to complete your being! Happiness brings light Sadness brings strength
WEAVING THE POETRY OF LIFE Read More »
two women on a platform one of them looks as the top button of the other’s dress in the colour of dust from Hierapolis and of the sunset over Ephesus comes undone – its orange-gold seams step by step reveal the body the black sail of underwear rises and falls on the waves of
a woman in a button-back dress Read More »
I remember every apple-tree I was able to climb up there in the branches was freedom and feastday with a liturgy of smells and sensations the stickiness of resin and the taste of apples greenish-purple leaves hearing confession a time for relief like a branch yielding fruit to the grass
Immediately after Summer equinox there push on the adherents of a secret cult – Hyperboreans bring confusion, some novices, some ultra- fanatical – on arrival, they fall down before their deity with anointing oils. All coins they would exchange for the charm of mystery. Obediently like fakirs, barefoot and naked, under the rain
On a Beach at the Foot of Olympus Mount Read More »
Dedicated to the church of Saint Mary of Salvation From the shadow that down the water slips on the narrow cape of Thy glory I tread from the bottom – to the dome, from a boat to a ship from insomnia to the head of bed – repose of the sea
