My Poems in 2010

Summertime


Star light’s cinders are boiling quietly
within wheat grains tender milk,
seed cores are beating fast
to open blue sky’s heavy door,
frail shadows are swept by winds
winnowing grasses scents,
the clouds swallow their tears
over a hot steamy mirror.

The sun is silently turning a clock
under well’s cold waters,
new songs spring out from depths
feeding flights and ripe fruits.
In the evening brides and grooms palms sit down
listening to earth’s heartbeat.

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The Wind Has a Bitter Cherry Taste


the house painter tossed by mistake
his bucket full of paint
over my bedroom’s mirrors

a white night stretches from my window
to the neighboring motel
my body is like a young comet
imprisoned between shadows and half-shadows
carrying dark stripes afar

I touch the mirrors with my fingertips
feeling them gliding
in an out of tune violin dance
in their hunger for genuine shadows
like blue Medusa eyes

each moment there are many others alike
I can’t retrieve myself entire
swirling on my heels for quite some time
my eyes are running away
like two wheels dropping from their axle
my lips are taking a heart’s shape
with fluttering beats
my blood is leaving a trace of vapor
on the opaque glass

now I’m silent
I open the window without prints
towards the walls outside
letting a drought wind
flood over

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White


I’m turning in a slow motion
a photographic film losing its color.
From my house bricks
it rains with memories,
spread like sea salt on the shore.

Colors gather between clouds
floating over trees,
white cherry flowers sway,
their shadow on grandma’s window.

The roof is covered with old snow
and lost letters ashes,
walls are whitewashed
with pale butterfly wings.

I’m shaking in silence my white hair,
it falls in the dust without footprints,
my arms, my head, my smile drop down,
washed away in the moonlight.

The last white morning stars
brought back into my life
yesterday’s light.

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Windy Night


I was expecting you to leave
she was repeating avidly
grinding words like coffee beans
popping between teeth
something fresh getting inside
like the wind through her open window
turning over the bed sheets
at a cold midnight hour

not a single tear in her eyes
like almonds with mascara perfume
her mouth’ corners were wet
her plait knitted in three shafts

above the withered poplar on the street
the moon’s horn was drifting to the right
the woman kept her pillow over her heart
only her soft voice was still heard
faraway how far will you leave
she was repeating again and again

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Sorrow


An angel is crying,
his wings are melting
like rain in the sand,
lake’s face trembles
amidst water lilies.

His load fell on his arms
and the white cherry tree,
crucified flower,
drifts under storms…

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