illustration pending (or how sunshine and too many blossoms can remind of Avallon)

aloofly, the chestnuts shower the senseless asphalt with fragments of pink and off-white. the sun turns green all over the birch-besieged streetlets, and the younger lovers hide not their excitement, just like the starlings, desperately nesting, in defiance and in glorification of all that shines, sings, transcends the frozen drifts of before. apple-trees emit fragrances, […]

Read More illustration pending (or how sunshine and too many blossoms can remind of Avallon)

three chrysanthemums in a vase/the roses are all wilted long ago;//do not come to me, seek me no more,/what has been, is all passed and gone there was a time when your eyes/held my gaze so tightly,//but now, in these dark autumn nights/all i have is a sad smile. she who comes first, will have […]

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misplaced

moving from one place to another tires me, even if it is not physically exhausting. probably because my soul is so slow, it takes ages to get anywhere, whilst my body can be easily moved my mechanisms. i feel my soul coming back, returning to me. probably tonight. here’s to you, my soul, who quicken […]

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life-run

when the sky is patched by feather clouds, a wagtail traverses the adobe shingles one by one, and all the flies change their orbit

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spring-time economies unsprung

reaching to you through time, my fingers brush against shadows, reminiscences spring up and flourish into semi-existence, triggered by a meaningless mingling of a casual word and the whisk of fragrance carried by wind; the chestnut-trees place not-yet-milk-scented candle matrices in the branches of new-shot leaves, and the thrush sings like a scalpel, deeper and […]

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mid-may

and suddenly i want to talk to no-one. i just need a hiding place, a hole to winter this may, this may, too.

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bird-cherry nights

like a soundless party upstairs, the bitter-sweet fragrance creeps into my dreams, perfectly blending in, subtly turning the stream of subconscious in a stranger  route, and i, asleep, watch the white and the magic dance, twine, grow and then – nothing, as the wind changes, and the nightingale bubbles and gurgles the sun awake.

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Thunder

Yes. The first thunder was here. It left little footprints in the form of almost blossoming bird-cherries and chestnuts. And now everything has cooled off. And the sky is white again.

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