Poetry (0.022s) Poetry, prose, essays, comments, poems - International Culture and Literature
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 |
Agonia.Net | Policy | Advertising | Contact | Participate | |||||||
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| ||
 |
| ||||||||
![[ Creative ]](/images/menu/eng_CREATIVE.png){kind=small} ![[ Internet ]](/images/menu/eng_INTERNET.png){kind=small} ![[ Culture ]](/images/menu/eng_CULTURE.png){kind=small} ![[ Society ]](/images/menu/eng_SOCIETY.png){kind=small} ![[ Events ]](/images/menu/eng_EVENTS.png){kind=small} ![[ Art ]](/images/menu/eng_ART.png){kind=small} ![[ Books ]](/images/menu/eng_BOOKS.png){kind=small} ![[ Dialogue ]](/images/menu/eng_DIALOGUE.png){kind=small} ![[ Press ]](/images/menu/eng_PRESS.png){kind=small} ![[ Regional ]](/images/menu/eng_REGIONAL.png){kind=small} ![[ _INTERVIEW ]](/images/menu/eng_INTERVIEW.png){kind=small} ![[ Contact ]](/images/base.png){kind=small} |
|||||||||
 |
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
agonia.net 
· Perspectives
Article 
Despre Boierism: manifest si razie
Round Table
|
- - -
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2006-07-18
| we make way through the forest torn by the past day’s heat the sun stung in the soles by thorns leaves its blood to the horizon into a fauvist landscape’s dusk on my left, Manuela crushing the tall herbs evening reared over the chilly trees and her hands reminding me of water willows on lake shores somewhere far away a water’s awaiting us knowing the sister-thirst that dwells us its roaring – cool shadow over our eardrums darkness – gigantic tongue licking the frail traces of light left from the day resembling a Chinese fried ice-cream and through places where, in the past, tyrannosaurs used to run free macetes cut the green juicy meat of the grass the road to the river is just a long scream bursting out of our sight those who once lived those who once passed through this tall grass are now breathing through each leave’s pores and the fear is increasing as a wild flower in our hearts I watch Manuela’s hair its unplaiting is this place’s fragrance and mystery just a few moments away and I’ll be quenching her thirst from my palms we go ahead and behind us the looks of those who once lived burn harder Manuela squeezes my hand her fear cools my veins downtrodden by the burning behind thoughts sizzle in between my temples breaking the porcelain silence so reminding me that we are the ones who once lived
Views: 341
|
|||||||||
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
||||
| ||||||||||
|
Home of Literature, Poetry and Culture. Write and enjoy articles, essays, prose, classic poetry and contests. | | ||||||||
| ||||||||||
|
