Ready to Give Birth to Forgetfulness
The zero exists and it doesn’t
eternity is in its space
distant root of the sea
realities and reflections
all the shed blood
for sanctified or sinful dreams
ecstasy of the flesh in the immensity
of life
thought that lifts and imprisons
crowding of my mind
sails, sphinxes and shipwrecks
and Eros in absentia
soul that flutters
my cosmos is always
in the cosmos
from the foggy gleam of who I am
passing memory joins me
with the ready-to-die forgetfulness
timid and at the same time a hero
from the beginning to the end
the attempt will be
her unfamiliar hand in my hand
when time unexpectedly enlivens
youth
music score that wished to love
and guide me to the wind-whipped light
will guide me to whom I was
in the fleeting footmarks
of an eternal Odyssey.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DPCRLJC6

eight
You laid the morning
upon a wheat ear
and the bird you kept for lunch
the two interactions
you have been hungry for eons
and contemplate
your up-coming demise

https://www.amazon.com/dp/192676370X

Relation
She stood in the yard silently; she was still wearing
black clothes. The trees vanish behind other trees. She
tried to remember, to cross time, like back then when
she looked in the mirror of the hairdresser.
The opposite wall, with its hanging overcoats, was visible
the back of the other chair and further inside, smooth,
made of black marble, the huge hall with the naked, and
with their uncombed hair, made-up old women sauntered
dragging behind them long, bedsheets made of calico.

https://draft2digital.com/book/4278093#print

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763785

Chickadee
The pitch chirp of the chickadee recites the verse I wrote for you last night, and your smile opened my heart, hourly unction of silence when the heartless Hades caressed your cheek, and another ulcer formed in my stomach
—Do you want me to wear this green dress, or should I wear the black one?
My breath turns sulfuric, a potion the angels refuse to take away from my mouth, a taste I must indulge in for the rest of my life without you, my love
—Come and help me with the zipper; this dress is so tight.
Dove tethered onto my heart paints the room white as if a melodious song has gone flat. Your revered image still keeps me company when the night clock counts my heartbeats, and my spoiled dream rekindles my hidden yearning
—Don’t pull on the zipper so hard, you’ll break it. Come now, you’ve done this many times.
The gaping mouth of the abyss shuts, and your honeyed mound stands opposite the murky swamp where I struggle not to leave my worthiness attached.
—Now, isn’t it easy? Let’s go to the theatre tonight, don’t worry about the dog

https://draft2digital.com/book/3745982#print

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763769