Chemversation

Since the dawn of self-reflection, I have been an inert gas,
Other atoms’ interactions mocking me, as I flew past.
Every time I saw two bonding, I would quickly look away,
My full outer shell reminding, solitude is here to stay.

Looking at those lucky ions, never did I see the facts,
Never did I grasp the science, one who gives, and one who takes.
Can the atoms both be merry if their dipole is so charged?
Or do their nuclei carry hearts that shattered into shards?

I have circled a few atoms, now that I can speak their tongue:
Those with brains looked unimpressive; those with good looks sounded dumb.
Those with both were cold and distant, their electrons long since shared,
Atoms much stronger than this one waiting for their chance with her.

Now you beckon me with riddles, and all of this is so new —
Our polarity is brittle, and I don’t know what to do.
But regardless of what happens, Heisenberg remains unkind:
One of two forever present: thirst of flesh, and thirst of mind.

V

Păşind spre mine ai căzut;
Eram pe ceruri diferite.
(Nu ştiam, a fost vina mea.)

Tăcerea
S-a spart în aşchii ascuţite
Şi te-ai întors
(Nu meritam.)

Mai târziu am aflat
Că un da fără ecou
Doare mai mult decât un nu.

Şi aşa am rămas
Îngeri în ceruri paralele,
Comunicând prin nori,
Ne vom atinge niciodată.

Fără titlu

Pe cer plutesc vise ca frunze albastre.
În aer dansează, se împletesc,
Devin prea grele şi cad.
Curg pe ferestre ca tăceri sărate,
Dau de pământ şi fac rădăcini
Care foşnesc cu frustrări verzi abia ascunse,
Reflectate în două scântei care au uitat să doară,
Şi au durut să se uite
Cum de pe cer cad visele ca frunzele.

Deer Amaranth

keywords: unfinished, experimental, expired, extinct

In a forest with no mirror,
To the eyes of God none dearer,
Lives a lone fawn that fawns not.

Treading softly on the grass she’s
Crushed the rush and rushed the crushes,
Dreaming of her amaranth.

She knows not the rocks from flowers,
For amidst these early hours
She’s only been hit by one.

Her mind raced in thoughts confounded,
But despite heartthrobs unwanted,
Her step is again now calm.

Eyes dancing with joyous laughter,
She sings out her silent light that
Rocks and flowers like alike.

Looking high at heaven’s towers,
From afar she smells the flowers
Waiting to be kissed by one.

But my dear deer, not a flower
By its own will and its power
Ever leaves the land he loves.

They too wait for a desired
Brown-eyed fawn to quench their fire,
But alas they move cannot.

Thus Sisyphus’ sweet sweat showers
Brows of deer and crowns of flowers
In a world that’s wired weird.

Now the forest with no mirror
To the eyes of God none dearer
Witnesses the fawn’s first tear.

She will learn amid her hours
To dodge rocks and pluck the flowers
Till she finds her amaranth.

And the forest will behold her
Eyes of brown alone no longer
Grow old with her amaranth.

ingenting nej ingenting (and i love* you)

*wakeup wanttosleep
want nothing but
thedreamisdead longlivethedream
may be youll see her to day
so getup

bathroom disinfectant like putrid chestnuts
sit and shit and ponder the meaning of life
and forgodssakes keep your eyes closed when brushing your teeth
(thirld wolrld)
out

food minus taste
add mustard or ketchup or mayonnaise
not nonsweet sugar but
sweet sugarfree sweetener
and filteredwater with a distinct taste
the taste of chewinggum overchewed

blur
free hugs sorries and thanks no thanks
freewithafineprint
blur
unblur
her eyes smile
but she dreamsnot what youdream
(first world)
blur

outofphase ambulance wails
twelvestrobes in fivedirections
smilingfaces on the website
of a mental hospital
cheerful noises
onholdonthephone
and a twentyfourseven funeral service

albino squirrels
pin ging stree tlights
walk inwhite stop inred
newspeak in the t station

noise repeat
blur repeat
depth of field decrease
in stay(up)
and pull the shades down

planes taking off at threeinthemorning
surroundsound fire alarms
sweaty feet under nylon sheets
the sound of ventilation is your lullaby

overload not sensory synesthetic
colors of france britain russia and the czech republic
despair brown. cells abcdeeing you
hope not from above from the underground
from the grave of beethoven

stomach rumbling like a badharddisk
to forgetsomeone is as easy as removefromcontactlist
the wood texture on this nonwood desk is p i x e l a t e d
(beculeţeledelamodemclipesc) thereforeIam