Horizon
To
the sea
horizons
meet with laziness
the
seaweed companion vector
between
what it looks and what it does not look like
between
the end and the start
time
and eternity
boundaries
and infinity ...
To
the sea
horizon
meets with laziness ...
The
curved line is the sea
like
your eye on profile ...
Midnight October
October
moonlight, midnight creeps fog
behind
white trees, like Eunuch's ghosts
which
you do not want to notice.
Under
the pressure of silence,
only
the inner noise of the head is heard,
with
drowned rhythmic sounds, like rocks
rolling
into the depths of the abyss.
On
the beds sleep the day persecutors -
now
feels like the humid night air
to
break with the slogan of freedom ...
On
the beds sleep all yesterday's killers,
while
their victims,
the
last light they took with them at Had
to
return them to the executioners tomorrow.
Nothing
ruins the tranquility of this night,
in
addition to the slight knockouts of the memory door.
Sleeping
are thieves, prostitutes,
gossip,
snobs, poets ...
They
all sleep and look more heavenly
than
ever else, but this thing they do not know ...
In
the wilderness sleep the scorpions,
in
the ocean sleep the octopus,
sleep
cobras in the woods.
October
night in the whole world,
Everything
feels it is somewhere,
however,
walks or sleeps.
Only
the fog dries all the fear,
say
that it does not break the tranquility ...
October 2016
Remote
conversation
For
D.
You
can not know what happened when God created Eden,
you
can not know what the first man in Eden looked at,
Your
story is the lonely journey of tears,
the
division of endlessness as in the legend of Ago Imer.
Your
consciousness has found you on the far side
with
eyes from the past,
your
consciousness as mystical as your creation,
how
come your life, how your way in this maze.
It's
Eros and Thanathos and that's the definition -
all
the cities, and all that is upon the earth
in
the sweetest of these divine deities;
the
flowing waters, the trees, the mountains, the polluted fields,
the
waves of the sea that you have seen from the ship's turrets
in
the unknown seas,
the
haze that you have distinguished
from
outgoing west trains,
on
ghosts of trees in foreign lands,
seasons
marching on the triple squadron on the screen,
since
the unknown story of Eden
to
any other assumption.
You
can not know what happened
when
the Lord razed Antlantide,
Babylon,
Sodom, Gomorrah, Pompeii,
when
he extended the sand to the reckless spaces in the Sahara,
when
the oceans sent them to all four corners of the world,
when
the Himalayas raised them to heaven and Noah's boat
climbed
into a valley of Mount Ararat ...
There
are so many things that no waiting is enough for them to learn.
My
unprecedented reception is now turning my blood back,
from
the red peony to the blue of heavenly hope.
Bitter ballad
- for Sebastian -
I do not know how much the hour has gone by noon
And I do not know if the sun has risen to the vault of the heavens:
I'm in there with pain, scratchy,
Fly and axes talk about peace issues,
And quite a bit of enough reinforced sunshine in the corner rooms,
They're getting ready to run away somewhere.
He sits before me on a straw mattress,
He does not speak, nor does he walk on the outburst of the sun,
He laughs at me bitterly and I speak to him inferior in our lives,
Then, both of us are silently watching each other.
How long were your brothers for twenty-eight years,
Twelve and Eight Tidy Years as Death,
Twenty-eight winter in snow on the mountains,
Twenty-eight sheds with flowers and sun in life,
Twenty-eight hot summers with grain fields and cherries,
Twenty-eight in the fall when our good cherry fell?
Brother, can I keep my tears?
You have been silent for years,
And I looked through a small window,
How to get rid of the seasons outside.
You watched the mountains there as they folded,
To lie in the winter dream,
And when it's a white snowmobile that freezes you
Covering them,
They were heated ...
You were bitterly crying because you were cold in our room.
You could not see the flowers bloom for spring,
You could not touch the lambs in the green valleys,
You never met friends, you could not go to school,
You never refreshed in mountain wells and shadows,
And you could never run,
Run for birds with bells,
To climb the rocks,
Follow the sun rays that went into dreamy sinks.
Can I keep my tears?
Brother, can I keep my tears?
Now both of us together in this dark room,
All around the flooded silence,
We write our ballad of sorrow, brother,
For your eternal disease.
Spring 1993
- for Sebastian -
I do not know how much the hour has gone by noon
And I do not know if the sun has risen to the vault of the heavens:
I'm in there with pain, scratchy,
Fly and axes talk about peace issues,
And quite a bit of enough reinforced sunshine in the corner rooms,
They're getting ready to run away somewhere.
He sits before me on a straw mattress,
He does not speak, nor does he walk on the outburst of the sun,
He laughs at me bitterly and I speak to him inferior in our lives,
Then, both of us are silently watching each other.
How long were your brothers for twenty-eight years,
Twelve and Eight Tidy Years as Death,
Twenty-eight winter in snow on the mountains,
Twenty-eight sheds with flowers and sun in life,
Twenty-eight hot summers with grain fields and cherries,
Twenty-eight in the fall when our good cherry fell?
Brother, can I keep my tears?
You have been silent for years,
And I looked through a small window,
How to get rid of the seasons outside.
You watched the mountains there as they folded,
To lie in the winter dream,
And when it's a white snowmobile that freezes you
Covering them,
They were heated ...
You were bitterly crying because you were cold in our room.
You could not see the flowers bloom for spring,
You could not touch the lambs in the green valleys,
You never met friends, you could not go to school,
You never refreshed in mountain wells and shadows,
And you could never run,
Run for birds with bells,
To climb the rocks,
Follow the sun rays that went into dreamy sinks.
Can I keep my tears?
Brother, can I keep my tears?
Now both of us together in this dark room,
All around the flooded silence,
We write our ballad of sorrow, brother,
For your eternal disease.
Spring 1993
