Poetry (0.026s) Poetry, prose, essays, comments, poems - International Culture and Literature
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agonia.net 
· Perspectives
Article 
Despre Boierism: manifest si razie
Round Table
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2008-04-03 | | Where do I fly myself, with my feathers, made of stone, so fragilely sewed, on my short wings? Towards the water lily ground that feels your shadow. Where do I run myself, with my broken legs, full of bleeding holes? Towards a hidden sanctuary, to bring you prayer. Here they are, my bits, that shoot full of life, in front of your legs, white and healthy, not taken in bunches of thorns and upon faults of rock, sharpened, under the greatness of pine needles. Here I am, next to you, under the flag of throe longing, with my stairs, broken and my ropes cut off.
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