I buried your heart at my wounded knee

                                                             (Foto: Olia Pishchanska)




The innocence
Of my craving led me
To these paths with ice above
Crystal clear mirrors
Capturing the portrait of a single dream

My waiting on a bed of joy
And moon-struck hopes

You're praised by another's arms
And we're moving fogward
Where all the apples are truth
And our bond is woven by
Some lying stars

So there's nothing to caress
Nothing to tighten
But a handful of snow
And I'll spread it over
The wooden doors from
Beyond the winter of man

And I shall see thee
Under the bells of destiny
Echoing my many prayers
Cause I buried your heart
At my wounded knee

Thus I'll follow a path of pines
With my desire above
Which is never waning moon. 

Legg di hand i mi hand

Jeg er tåke.

A symptom of loss

(Foto: lostoneself.deviantart.com)

I have never failed
To stick back the
Vague crocks of loss
But I often hear
The barks of a naked, weird god
From an ancient fresco of feelings
And he always finds my hand
Sliding on silver noons
Picking the crimson threads of being.

I hang on
The sovereign present 
Elegant and speckled
And I hear it
The march of a diluted sequence
A resonant rictus of time
Then I'm caught in a spasm of healing
And I turn my eyes from a night eternal
To a rat in blinding light.

Codeine for imaginary wounds

                                                          (Foto: Laura Makabresku)




I'm writing now
from the top of the unknown
celebrating this drilling quietness
in which you were able to light
your little vaporous virtue from afar
in my mind
a candle to guard your abscence

I'm thick in this enstragement
repeatedly asking myself
how many ghosts do I need
to mold one of your gestures?
as I dreamt that
your trembling lips
left burned traces
on the neck of life
and I found myself
pushing you harder but
only in my awakening

I'm thick in this recollection
of imaginary wounds like pitfalls
lured by soil's codeine
in numbness I can cast a crown
upon your hidden kind of being
and yet it's like I have known you
since all the beginnings and the ends

there's a spectrum up here
mixed with bustles and us
forgiving our brightest grays
and the melting of a howl
into the squeezed liquor
of every touch

a strange time is keeping you away
whilst I
create
and
cremate

create
and
cremate
you

ca Lazăr

                                                              (Foto: Gabriel Wigren)

tu ştii

că la rădăcinile cuvintelor

stau guri zgribulite

cât bate o voie mută

de răstoarnă piatra-n vale

şi preface sarea-n mare

eu ştiu că

prin ea ai să mă vezi cândva

cu o altă stea în spinare

la o poartă de umbră

şi-am să râd ca Lazăr

că ştiu să dau uitării

ce-şi aduce aminte