***
Old birds of blood have fallen asleep,
no longer peck walking through the heart ‒
herds from Dead Sea driven onto the hill
chew mould and moonbeams
between nothing and no one.
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Tuesday, 3 December 2024
BETWEEN NOTHING AND NO ONE
APOCATASTASIS
Melancholy with woman’s lip
don’t drain me of life
you make the dawns implore you
night of mercy ‒ come.
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Monday, 2 December 2024
DRAWING "GOLEM" IS FOR SALE. PRICE 10000 EUROS
Sunday, 1 December 2024
NONETHELESS THE BREATH IS PRESENT
***
You fed on God, on His bones and silence
the tragedy is solemnly silent nonetheless
the breath is present and convulses you
as if it weren’t about an extraordinary thing
suddenly you have the countenance
of a goddess who has emerged from the past.
Almost all the lusts and all the usual satisfactions
put you to the test but something has broken,
but if it’s not breaking then it’s detachment;
you are no longer at the core of the things.
You’ll never be equal to what you do.
However nothing is any longer, nothing
looks any longer like what was before.
The vacuum is transfigured.
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ALWAYS THE SAME STORY
***
Always the same story: you forget the art
of disappearance on time, the wallowing
among the cannibals that have been haunting
the society for more centuries. Nothing consoles
because they are always cornering you
and nothing replaces the suffering,
they are making you an ungrateful beggar.
Thus it’s a fatal poison. So, you still see
the birth as an error.
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WHAT ARE WE,TOO IN THIS WORLD ?
What are we, too in this world?
We writhe, we writhe we foresee
as in the dream the mouth
of a woman, the breast of a girl,
the prayer of a child. And we go numb.
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DRAWING "A POPE" IS FOR SALE. PRICE 10000 EUROS
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