joi, 31 august 2017

I’m old today&sunt bătrână astăzi

I’m old today

I have grooved
Through the trunk
of fallen tree
I climb over the ruins and
I sing like a bird
in my temple
I bend over and I write epitaphs
my hand is trembling
as a violin to
the touch of the bow
the time
it dissipates me
through space
I become
mistress wrapped in glass
the quiver breaks me
from thousands of pieces
I get myself together
-bloody danger-
blotting out
the dusk

Sunt bătrân astăzi
Am rătăcit
Prin trunchiul
De copac căzut
Mă urc pe ruine și 
Cânt ca o pasăre
în templul meu
Mă aplec și scriu epitafuri
Mâna mea tremură
ca o vioară la
Atingerea arcușului
mă disipează
Prin spațiu
Amanta învelită în sticlă
tocmai mă rupe
Din mii de piese
Mă trezesc împreună
- pericol sângeros -
 ștergând amurgul

joi, 17 august 2017

the man

the man of the time
the day will pass
like a flickered
of eyelids thorniest
and a man beyond time
casting out
a hand in the sky
by jagged curtains
will dizzy
the ghosts worlds
in his hands
My fountain of love
was and is
a purple flower
of rust
with sleep
in pigeonholes of gold

vineri, 11 august 2017



1. dezbrăcați copacii de umbre
și apele se vor mări
nisipurile se vor aduna
întru înțelegere deplină
o să ni se deschidă ochii asfințitului
până dincolo de zborul în Mărire și Înalt
al vulturului cu pieptul de rubin
2. frivolă și mult aplecată în chemări
trec prin acest secol al adevărului de piatră
nu știu ce să mai cred. se scufunda lumea
sau într-o mare fără de cer
decantează vinuri
într-o separare a trupurilor
de loviturile crescute pe obraz
-funii albastre împletite din tăceri-


1. Unwrap the trees of shadows
And the waters shall be great
The sands will gather
For full understanding
The eyes of the sunset will open
Until beyond the flight into the Glory and the High
Of the eagle with the ruby breast
2. frivolous and much bent on calling
I'm going through this century of stone truth
I do not know what to think. Sinking the world
Or in a sea without sky
Decanted wines
In a separation of bodies
By the blows on the cheek
-the blue stuff woven from silence-

duminică, 6 august 2017

Refusal of pure thought

Refusal of pure thought

My mothers do not
They're still sneaking their infants
Through the open doors
The face of man
Will look
In another nation
Another religion or country
The mountain of fire will spit
The blood of love
With the tied step
Men do not want
You know how to lie
In cruel truths
Their neck will hang
Like in a deep drill of the snake
The strange head of the bent head
Among herbs of iron
There was only a trace
The jade clock
Counting the moment
In a jarring cry

the sun was...

the sun was pushing me from behind
and I was drawing you worlds/universe
invaded by moths
with bulging body
with perfumed wings, through
red eyes I was looking for
-yet unwound mould-
to tell you the dream that dreamt
when the flood invade me
from the chest I was
blooming a heart with a
blue rose
with many hour glasses
eating the time
…..and I was digging deep down. so that you
will not enjoy, I was the same,
I couldn’t become
better and still
I dream myself in a torn coat,
with hueless lips with
shadows lengthened underneath the skin

miercuri, 2 august 2017

I need peace

the life thee can make
beggar is like
soul from living statues
and we siting
in peacefully
the confabulation
like a hanging
by lip of sky
we wanted to hang the lights
to us finish
the flight or
let us be filled
with silver bullets
Do not be afraid, , I say
Death is the still
the woman
wich has
a common place pale
and bizarre smile on the lips