Monthly Archives: November 2013

first snowfall


as if I hid my hands
with gnarled fingers
under my grandma’s mohair shawl
the same winter after winter on her shoulders

and my finger bones don’t stay wise
like cuckoo offspring in a deserted nest
they tremble starving
to pick again that rose so perfidiously red
climbing the house pillar

I order them to stay straight
as far as for me there is a cross
or a point
and then another line

Categories: My poems in 2013 | Tags: , , | Leave a comment

working day shirt


my body like a bugle
I listen
to the hot sea rolling over sand
to the sky sticking to earth like a mellow pumpkin
with all its stars

far and away
high over this mud
gathered under the soles as big as a mountain
there is my country
the place where I can put my finger on warm bread
on the star from the stag’s front
on the bell’s rope in the old church

from sunset towards sunrise
I too I become whiter
deep into my bones
along with this only sun
always full circle
bound to be turning around my house
as if it were the world’s beginning now

Categories: My poems in 2013 | Tags: , , | 2 Comments

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