Fragment 13

         Observați cum se împletește acest coș de nuiele! Jur pe toți sfinții Nicolae că balta are pește. Și peștele are Balta lui. Bafta lui că este ca laptele. Spuma îl ține în viață. El privește de după gratii. Și toți îl ajută să trăiască. Ei fac spume din cele mai rafinate, aproape intelectuale și apoi se plâng. Și se uită. Pe geam, pe drum, pe onoarea mea.

         Dacă mă întrebați de unde știu, este simplu: au dat în scris. Până n-au mai putut. Au ostenit, au ostenit bine, apoi au dat iar.

         Mă aflu totuși ȋntr-o încurcătură. Frisoanele și Frisonii, specie rară de altfel, se întâlnesc la Sediul Central pentru dezbateri periodice. Varga doar se arată. Alluminati, cum sunt cunoscuți în cercurile deschise publicului, cultivă doze de întuneric până se crapă buza paharului. Paharnicul, un fel de dumnezeu de rezervă, are la piept, pe dinăuntrul cojocului, un sufertaș cu multe ace. Pentru toată Frisoneria.

         Trebuie căutat capul de moluscă. Am început trierea. Ață albă avem, nu mai rămâne decât să-l coasem bine de perdea. Perdeaua lor. Mie îmi place fără.

20 iunie 2018, Constanța

Never Friends

through a mirror of ice

sunset rolling afar

there is much to the known

as there is to the heart

taking part in a gambit

of mischievous dice

rolling over again

and again

and again

on the floor where she lies

where she cries

little is

a peculiar bed

crawling under the window

yes, we can seal

in a silly bouquet

all the arms we've rejected

all the throats missing hands

you and her in the foreground

me and you

never friends

3^rd June 2018, Constanta, Romania

Dogmatic Silence of Children

watch these crooked children

how they carry the labour of a century

parents are silent

or went mad

watch these crude children

and tormented as a hill's bottom

brushed by waters

there is no steed

to ask for nails into his bridle

it is our turn

to grind

and die

as we would have never been born

drained is the beginning hour

of a world that seems to haste

towards an aberrant drift

watch the squatted daughter

as she begs for water and light

we are to blame!

in vain

drained is the beginning hour

of a world that seems to haste

from bone to bone

to no avail

1^st June 2018, Constanta, Romania

(translated from ”Dogmatica tăcere a copiilor”)

How to come across the set of rules that keep you alive but not awake

I pity the ones that love me too late

but the ones that adore me the most

if some sort of vanity comes across

then I shall carry the nails for my coffin

cremate me today and play with my ashes

though building a wheel for the ones with no legs

might cause a disruption in finding a splinter

a so perfect splinter for blinding the man

that's already blinded by tears and destruction

your face almost fading

your face, but your eyes

I carry the night and the nails for my coffin

chasing together some dimming light

21^st May 2018, Constanta, Romania

Moonstone

my beloved demon

look at that moonstone

go ahead

grab it, hold it

squeeze it until it bleeds night

kiss it until it weeps nightmares

and hear my whispers

"humans touch me

with sparrow feathers"

my ankle

the shape of a thistle

look

it succumbs into dark mirrors

"humans kiss my bottom lip

before and after a drink or two"

it's you

who's here

who's bestowed secluded alleys

in front of my feet

don't let the moonstone sneer

"humans die before they live

and after that they die some more"

don't you adore my shoulder bare?

my endless demon

come to me

and hide my eyes

into your eyes

into these thousand lies

that crumble in a pleasant chase

I have no grace

to rip the stones we batter

here in my arms

oh, damn you,

how you shatter!

17^th May 2018, Constanta, Romania

Duplicate

unbearable moments

of befriending with razors

across my skin

the puppets are dancing

not holding hands

me in between

beheading the snowman

the master of sands

abiding to gravity

not now, but then

please, let me in

unfold my virtues

one by one

and as you pin

my sanity

into a silent black sun

pray for these moments

you, demon who torments

my nightmares in white

pray as you run

15^th May 2018, Constanta, Romania

Chaos

arranging chaos by chaos

chaos's got no limits

what are its borders?

chaos is un patterned therefore I can assign any pattern I would like to it

is its center a border itself?

we have to be chaotic to explore chaos (rules of flexibility apply)

how do we manage its borders?

do we want that?

do we need its border, if we are willing to explore it?

do we want this to end?

         YES: find borders

         NO: fuck borders

suicide is a border

if we like chaos, we don't end it

we keep it to ourselves

how do we handle chaos?

do we want this?

         YES: there is no chaos --> borders

         NO: accept chaos

put chaos aside when world is coming in

12^th May 2018, Constanta, Romania

Into the Rain

a quiet lamb

in this cemetery of thoughts

a night that shadows

grass in black

a luring minuet

embossed on my mother’s neck

and sky…

my love,

the sky stays still

my lack of will

to lie inside this bed

of rotting roses

and the chill…

I love the chill of night at dawn

who’s killed the nightingale and why?

your lips are dry

shall I remove the stone you bear?

my love,

the sky has moved my pain

into the rain

26^th April 2018, Constanta, Romania

Equinox

these cranes

dabbing the surface of my dreams

don’t know

to spread their wings

and burdened of horizon sweep

they die at my feet

shall I ever meet

his reflection in mine

this tiny memory imprisoned

in a storyline

my love,

I will send you the cranes

as a beautiful sign

should you master the wind

as they learn how to fly

my reflection in yours

shall not die

19^th April 2018, Constanta, Romania

Reminiscences

the demon I love

could bend his knee

over my lips

over my hips

the angels flee

and cavalcades of sleepless clouds

pledge silence over you tonight

foresee the cradle of the dawn

so I can shun

his eyes embedded in my skin

there is no sin

to overwhelm

the birds of light

and yes, they fight

over my corpse pinned in a halo

please, do not gasp

please, do not gasp

I heard it twice

the demon I love

could bend his knee

over my lips

over my hips

but with a price

18^th April 2018, Constanta, Romania

When nobody’s asking for you

the sky is bloody jealous

that you haunt from dead to dead

with a wimple in peaks of silence

dismantling the candle of light

you darken harder

on that street’s mouth

that chews us

and spits us

beyond the mother of all saints

the old heaven

forswears you

but

not me

17^th April 2018, Constanta, Romania

(translated from ”Când nimeni nu te cheamă”)

Ravel

calmly,

she was washing death out of her hands

carefully

in her eyes, a splinter

cleaved her lightness into half

the miracle of resurgence was belated

she had fasted

and sheltered

for a snake-hole worthy sexton’s fist of clay

in which

humble

senile

her furrow was bargaining

on the last slice of the dawn

17^th April 2018, Constanta, Romania

(translated from ”Capăt de ață”)

Wounds

the door is open

to the garden

with many dying butterflies

a floating silhouette

and sky

she trembles

she remembers death

she cannot die

to end despair

is all she needs

you cannot glance, you cannot frown

a wounded butterfly that stops

onto her gown

can someone help her

crying wolves

are distant

fading into mist

a wounded butterfly that stops

onto her wrist

11^th April 2018, Constanta, Romania

The Right Side of the Moon

there is a road I always take

so red and dark

as blood, as moon

their eyes – my home of desperate hour

and yet I find no step of you

my shadow holds the end of times

so here I am

away from light

so far away, I can’t recall

that narrow never-ending night

there is a road I always take

and someone is awaiting me

like a forever blind mistake

of nothing that will never be

so here I am

away from light

away from thunders and the storm

their lips adorn in blooms of fire

and demons linger in a choir

oh, naked as my flesh can be

and ivory as frozen steppes

I walk around and look around

and something is surrounding me

it’s you or shadows holding time

and what is time

if not an arrow

that thrusts an angel’s haze at night

you might be right

you whispered me

that I shall find my home, my home

and yet I roam

in darkest glare

“too soon”

I whisper to myself, “too soon”

and here I am

this final step

close to the right side of the moon

10^th April 2018, Constanta, Romania