Ioana Barac Grigore

I named this great goblet The Alison‘s Cut It isn’t a lack Not even a wound Sometime it’s a helmet But always a chasm Dangling its feet in the ocean of chants Let’s whirl together

Fall in me again Child of the sky & sand-sound I am the earth. Quake!

black hole&full hole poetry [ ] collage by branco & ioana - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - by ioana barac grigore [barac] 2004-07-28 | | cut-up, stretch, expand, filter,

…ecnis reve degnahc sah gniht yrevE I stopped you at the heavens’ crossing I touched your wing’s shoulder a feather fell on the street with a soft noise in melodic colors next a feather took to the

look out the windows look inside what do you see watch the photo-collage think feel write open the windows I’ll seal it for you

elle restait dans un plat à fruits en verre crucifiée sur le brin de la pomme tenait une graine contre son sein à côté de son cœur avait collé sa joue contre l\'humide était nue et légère telle

B-ecause there is always a light in the night even A-stronomies couldn’t name it R-ehearsal for the Prom & you being half of my magical eye B-ecause our dance was not just a coincidence

Every time I was waiting for you... I covered my head with an iron helmet and I dressed myself in a volcano So what…?! I felt your expiration on my nape your gestures in my marrow your

Look at me! I am the central piece Magma and gravitation Wine rouge Iceberg burning in hell Nebuchadnezzar’s palace ponies Flowers and breakfasts No frozen dinners Nothing canned

more or less then a Haiku: lost in translation everyone wants to be found with a single word \"Could you translate this one for me in Portuguese & find the word?\" \"(I´m with the

The cat found a radioactive spot in the dog’s white fur. She slept over there waiting for the ballet. The black waiter was waiting. Naked, in the dark wall wearing an imaginary white

Mechanical He was looking at a sunny window. He didn’t know what a window was. He thought it was a door and walked out. Time has stopped. Even if he had some notions about flying, he kept his

Juice between (...) in the morning Alcohol after hot dinners Spicy snow in the des(s)ert Onion with hundred sweet layers Nut’s salty shell on the tongue a violin (and) in a hard rock bed a

His mother was a couturierre and she knew to cook special meals for his son and his guest. Vegetables and seeds. The fruits of Atlantis, yeast of Plato’s Greece. Huge sweet cabbages, mille leaves

I am embryo in your pocket grow raise develop mature look at your silhouette in this mirror give me birtH

around the wet stone a blind dog chases its tail quicksandtsunami

thirsty I’m swimming in fata morgana’s tear seeking a desert

Take care of my bags, Milady! All I can do for you! The left one: an-ex-multi-champion-Romanian-gymnast! The right one: fresh-barbecued-meet-my-relatives-from-quartzwood! 2 eyes, 1 abnormal

I swallowed the sun darkness doesn’t bother me I miss the eclipse

WASHER, DRYER, MICROWAVE, WINGS, WIG, LEFT-HANDED PEN, WRITER DESK! including transport for free for cleaning for ever ROSE&ORCHID BREASTED COCKATOO, ALMOST 400 MONTH,