I feel trapped in the best prison there is
full of drifting sounds, vivid lights
rain and acid jazz
and the sun promising its arrival
from beneath the stormy clouds above us
indeed I feel
my bitter moon calmly travelling over the horizon
your tired horses lost the grass of the love that\'s still sleeping
the secret question in that stranger\'s eye
the moaning balance of our tied
I\'m knocking on unforgiving doors
while your face is becoming more and more truthful
losing itself among the shapeless things
we call reality
I cannot remember a time when we used to be
the airiness between our hands that remain above the rains
the coral dress you wore on the day of the sub aquatic breakfast
your lover in chains like another kind of flesh covering the bones
now
During one of the research projects for my master\'s degree in editing, I came across a very interesting online article signed by Stevan Harnad - well-known author and professor at Princeton. In his
For us all members of poezie.ro, this edition of the “Agonia Artistic Workshops” represents a new beginning and a step forward.
Sunday, the 30th of May, at 5:30 pm, “Agonia Artistic Workshops” will
Radu, the words that better characterize you would be: \"I\'m waiting to hear what\'s new\". You most often talk about \"what\'s new\", rather than “news”. Would this be your virtual
I\'m today\'s only feature
just a snapshot in a fragment of \"us\".
You smile out of date and then you tune
Slowly, gaily, the choir of your blinking
Using me.
You try me as if I were a
On a previous show I talked to you about
Harry Potter and Keops near the pyramids;
On a previous show I talked to you about
Fantasies and out of place ideas,
And about me, the one who in
Write me about the colors of fall
About seasons and changes
Write me about wondering birds
About cactuses and their private desert
Write me about a fountain of tears
About one and the other and
Is this making sense? I don\'t remember this picture. The last hill before Vama Veche, just when the sun is setting, when you feel that beneath it there\'s nothing left and all that remains is
A mere fog sphere between the planets,
One ordinary morning
The Earth blossomed.
\"On a cosmic background
you can admire unrepeatable landscapes\"…
The thought of the Wise One touched a
In a corner of the sky
The roots of eternity
Secretly destroy their second.
Illusion built
On a breath of death!
The colour of wind
Is writing
love\'s syllables.
It\'s me
You are ... not to
Alone she stands
on the edge of the precipice
and begs:
\"Give me one reason not to fly!\"
The graines of dust roll vertically
Just waves of martian thoughts
coming from her heart...
No buss
This is a train travelling to nowhere
hip
A sure and checked recipe for failure
hop
This is not about ruffians or women
hip
It\'s about me and my decision to walk out
hop
Everybody writes
Our lips were so close
we could not tell apart
one breath from the other
I wished I could paint you in tears
on the dunes of my heart\'s desert
and keep you there
I wished you\'d let me
Can you feel
this distance between us?
Who knows, maybe we should
invent another measurement
for sadness
so I could tell you I don\'t lie.
Anyway it\'s so full - the moon -
that I started
Just look how your steps rhyme with mine
two traces of twin storms
and look how between the time lost in you
and my faded summer
the snow is falling softly like a kiss.
A few stones gathered
The man on the orange beach
embraces my breast
with his blue eye
while falling
towards the red bed-sheet
I feel the green snake
biting my guts
curved on the outside
the man with black
With the tips of my fingers
I rise to the moon
Am I myself or am I living
in a crazy world?
Blue coming from the sky
Touches the cheek
Mister psychiatrist
is closing my case
I\'m still
Wild wind rose, I belong to no one
How do sparrows tell the story of
the fading colour of a tree,
the tallest tree in town
till the stone mounds appeared
the mounds which don\'t let you
see
II