Sunday, October 21, 2018

Sunday, olives

The ladder positioned between me and the tree
tells a hundred stories 

of running away to hide in branches 
where only the imagination would find me 

scrawling a plan on torn pieces of paper 
pretending its animals skin 

that I am a queen from olden times 
fallen into the recent age by chance 

this is childhood, now older 
with the tree in my hands 

instead of me in hers 
picking its sons and daughters 

how much have you both grown! 

question on origin, once more

I have once asked earth
am I from you?
when I do not have dirt in my hair

it laughed,
all I could know is that
I don't not know for sure

where I descended from
an earth or a sky
or probably a bit of them both.

Drifting in the wrong waters

How many times, would I have had to die
because my ship drifted to where I didn't ask

tornado at sea,
I, am the difficult storm ahead

how many have to go, so I could feel
the wind as a brother

on my neck,
because my ship drifted to the wrong waters

like your life is of no value

You point at an empty frame I haven't hung yet
what would an empty womb use it for?

Saturday, October 13, 2018


The fights you pick

using arms, extended, legs bent 
over things that cannot keep up the whole 
banal the verse and the firearms

Friday, October 12, 2018

thinking about recycling

Dusty evening
a flat water-bottle pours
oxygenated breath down the amphitheater 

Fear of force

I fear
the force that causes
death by inconveniences.

ask and you will be answered

This is the fundamental lie
that questioning leads to an answer
maybe it is not that great, the answer
that arrives.


A hug, that binds
the pieces crumbling
that's all my heart needs.

Gypsy music

The nomadic in you
asks you to run
the music demands you stay.

Freedom is restricted

close your mouth
put tape over its corners

tie your legs together
with a stone, send it down a lake

put your hands to other use
than typing on a keyboard

avert your eyes
from areas marked with "caution"

cut all buddings of feather
growing between your shoulders

this is natural, a redefinition
of you being free to be restricted too.


It is all closed, the storefronts
the streets, all void of people

it is all kept at bay
the cooking, the school-boys running with burdened bags

it is all left behind
the tiresome, slow hours of work

it is all closed off, striking
except the windows to my heart, open.

too much excitement is not good for women

because the rational cannot compete with the tender 
because the excepted cannot grant way for those unable to beat misery 
with the back of their hands 
because like little glitter you cannot box smiles 
because there are things needed at the house 
because the washing up will stay unwashed 
the dishes dirty, the kids unfed
because it replaces the heart with a butterfly 
because it is not acceptable 
because it preludes to bad things 
because it requires energy 
too much excitement is not good for women.  

Saturday, October 6, 2018

olive picking

Three on the floor
legs between buckets and century old trees
olives pitted and non pitted
let down to earth with nimble hands

wedding rings, not needed

No wedding ring
on her fingers

incapable of loving
herself first

maybe it is not about
loving what's inside for once

maybe all this love
has to be splayed open

for the world to see it.

a challenge

Put in to paper
he asked
a challenge in words