White

Pause - air fills my lungs,
the white struggles to prevail

a new-found poise dawns.

0

Bucharest 2008

The translucent pod
bows its head in the sweet light
of things yet to come.

01

Nazca 2009

my meander scars
point in the right direction
i am a strange loop
a

9

they cut my right hand
a gush of escapism
- I dreamt - unbridled.

Paris May 2008

8

despondency does
not mix well with the color
of my wicked soul.

Haridwar July 2011

7

Ranthambore Oct 2010

pride stripped from my bones,
I'm but a silent rattle -
the dead peacock's cry.

6

torn between extremes,
I watch the red darkness dance
hot blue is my heart.

Cluj-Napoca, Jan 2013

5

Oser, Cluj Napoca March 2012

peddle first chances
rewind, retry - we are all
creatures of habit.

4

blank slate - scribbled trees
spell inert indecision -
slanted inertia.

Bucium January 2012

3

Bucium Jan 2012

        viole(n)t echo -
     I lay in iridescent
  slumber - algid dreams.

2

Inis Mór 2008

step off the grey path
waves lulling the faded shell
no coin in your mouth

1

 

 

crows in the thick fog -
my soul bleeds with the white blues
no tracks on the sky

The Anatomy Lesson

Knitting
plucking
stringing
my raw nerves
brings so much
comfort
between the clawed walls
of others.

Lungs filled
with the grey haze of
self-pity
strain
to keep me
afloat.

I clutch at any numbing
excess -
never enough
for this mammoth
body
/
brain.

A stroke
to crucify
my neurons
with mercury blows
- it never comes.

Equilibrium

s
I've lost You
when I was born -
I've been
recovering
shards of You
ever since
everywhere -
especially
when I touch bliss
barefoot
You find my heel
& enter me
sharply.
You glitter
on every road,
that's why
I have to keep
walking,
to let You nest
in my flesh.
When it will rot
and fall away,
You will arise
shimmering,
whole -
Your presence,
my absence
our climax
an eclipse.

II.
I've lost you
ten years ago -
you've been with me
ever since.
A decade of leprosy,
watching you flow
through my fingers
tainting my skin
with your snow-white
(threefold) denials
every night
- no longer keeping count.

III.
I've lost you
the moment I had you
a year ago.
Erasing the days
has become so hard -
no sweet amnesia,
my sleep brimming
with tigers.
I offer my flesh
to appease them
'round midnight.
And yet the darkness
hides more peace
than the thrashing
light of day
when I become
a battering ram,
a blunt shatterer
of porcelain masks
& dreams.

I lead my life
from breath to breath
from shard to shard -
piecing together
your absence,
my presence.
s

Mandala

a
I listen
to the rain
and the midnight
sweepers
brushing away
the debris
of the day.


I taste
the bitterness
on my lips
& swallow
the absinthe
of your absence.


I inhale
the smoke
of my Gehenna,
letting it fill
the void
in my lungs.


I see
my reflection
in the darkened
window
and rejoice
in the stranger
smiling back.


I touch
all the places
you have claimed,
lulling myself
to sleep
& stretching
to the ends
of the night.
a

Indika

a
This is who I’ve become –
slowly
& exquisitely
spinning the yarn
of time before time
submersed
in golden clouds
of incense,
draped
in silks
of red and purple.

Under the tilted
saffron moon
- your all-seeing eye
showering me
with the awareness
of your every heartbeat -
I bask & glow
and redeem
my forefathers,
diving back to my roots
into the blood before blood
the tide before tide
thickly throbbing
with the heat & dust
of thy/my land.

My body sways
to the caressing
sound of the sitar
- my palms open
to receive the
p(e)ace and grace
of the heavens
that touch the ground
Here.

This is what I've become -
a lightning rod,
a crossroad,
another pinpoint
of communion,
a silk thread
tying the skies
to the earth
& bringing them closer
with every breath
I draw,
into the holiest
of marriages.
a



a

Balkanika

a
This is who I am -
kin after kin
of dark faceless
shepherds,
bearded flute-playing satyrs
mating on the wet grass.
From their grunting
& panting
came we -
strong arms
to tend the sheep
& hold the hot-headed rams
and bury the hatchet
in the skull
of whoever threatened
our lineage.

This is who I am -
effigy after effigy
of silent women
with knitted brows
and knotted flesh,
whose milk and sweat
blended with that
of their sheep
in an all-pervading
rut scent.
Taken on the hay
in drizzle or hail,
in times of peace or war
from their tears & shrieks
came we -
tender arms
to milk the ewes
& dry the newborn lambs
all for a better life,
all for the offspring.

Dark
silent
nameless
nomads
sliding on the slopes
of the mountains
where gods would
roam and rage
against the meagre
mortals
- we step on their skulls
& spit on their bones,
we feast and dance and drink,
for we shall see the sunrise!
a

Mar adentro / Sea within

a

I drink

the amber wine

of oblivion

- its acid erasing

the fingerprints

you left on my body,

its sweetness

intoxicating

my lewd brain.

Slowly,

the cry of the peacock

fades away,

no longer arousing

the tide of my blood

on moonless nights.

As the caravels

leave the port,

so do my memories

depart

one by one

towards better futures

or a spring of scurvy

& curses.

Forever exploring

the seas where dragons lie

- what better way to wake them

than to rattle

the crooked relics

of all my losses?

Forever treading

the jungles where tigers lurk

- what better lullaby for them

than the songs I'll hum

to my unborn children?

I let the conches

I walk on

tear at my flesh

- they are much gentler

than the miles between us.

By air, sea or land

we are so apart,

so distant,

that they'll have to

give new names

to our oceans & straits.

I circumnavigate

with hope

- once started

my journey

will end

on your shores -

my sails torn

my masts broken

my crew all dead

my deck a-creaking.

Only my lonely toll

will call

out to you

over & over again.

a

Fado curvo / Twisted Fate

a
I burn with you
- the sweetest fever
contorting my senses,
spiraling me down
into Saudade:
the deepest
longing &
solitude
that I cannot contain,
but which hold & rock me
ever so gently.

I sit & drink the sea,
the waves washing against
my gargantuan throat.
The pebbles
I carefully pick
to weigh me down,
the shells of
empty words
set aside -
I shall
never speak
again.

My heart bleeds
on the cruel strings
of Moorish guitars
in the port of Lisboa.
The dark, endless
longing
spooling
my being
into silk cobwebs
with which
I weave myself
(yet) another cocoon,
warmly welcoming
the silent winter
of waiting.
a

Point of No Return

a

The saffron

half moon

rising

leaves me

gasping

at the remembrance

of your sideways

midnight glance.

I couldn't read it first

- all the more now -

as its searing tip

pierces my side

again

& again.

The ineffable flow

from my heart

- as deep as the Ganga -

rushes down my thighs

just as muddy and wild

& not even the flute-player

knows what lurks

ahead / underneath.

I am the master of Naught

& I let the void devour

the uncharted hillocks

of my flesh

that you've impregnated.

When nothing remains

after this acid

exercise

of extinction,

you'll know

I love you.

a