Poetry (0.024s) 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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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2006-10-01 | | nobody has ever told me I am beautiful really truly mindfully disquietly endlessly whispering not even when the moirae were hastily stirring in the pots by my cradle among the cherry-trees not even when I was leaving the ocean with a train of singing seaweeds dreaming hand in hand with allan light as a salty flow not even when alone I got on the coach full of commuters and the engine broke down and got off in the cold night they had no phones in that valley like a hidden chalice of bronze where foresters used to fall asleep in their summer horse-carts what a snow over them not even when I was bathing in copper waters in the sun waiting for you that the bed sheets were growing mad in the two-sepia-windowed house not even when we forgot about us wrapped up in deer skin in the snow melting the paths’ hearts of the meadows not even when retorts were swerved away from their lying lane over fields of flowers in happy ends pour une bourgeoisie their pulsing silence in this heart converted into a hospital of dreams with tissues of destroyed pokemons not even when you reproved me my lower lip trembling like a chicory margin of a promontory where you never let me jump but weave my arms in knot-shape bread and not even when I was dying for good inviting nobody to my funeral near a fire quenched at one time with my soul laying down as long as he is with traces of kiss on your frozen shadow not even when I returned into the slits of waves like a boat for an immortal fisher
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