the injured bee

My head stings
says the injured bee
to the hand that hit her

this flesh, like a leaf

A strip down
like a leaf left over
like meat, this flesh

time and this body

Age is a reference
to the relation you have
with a timely body:
ailing, wailing, slowly failing.

an aerial view of loneliness

There you are 

standing tall like an elm 

overseeing the crowds, like from a plane 

an aerial view of loneliness 

Rock heavy

my biggest fear
is that each time I harden
I will turn into a rock

Fear and fire

Like a wildfire, it will eat up with its arms
all the sides of yourself you were keeping safe
this fear

Things to do with anger 3

of the things you can do with your anger
is stop answering the phone, hang it up
with its own chords to choke away the noise
of the requests lining up on your door.

going back home

I am finally back 

you write to me 

I slip between sleep 

and waking to ask you 

what has been the most apparent 

difference you've seen over 

my body, the trees or the clear skies 

I hear you say 

the air, its different

smells like my childhood and your perfume. 

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.

all that's broken

a constant need of repetition
they call you obstinate
for trying to fix all that's broken

Aradi: Territories

Call it peasantry, the practice of hands turning the soil for air
dirt capsulated under fingernails:
a primal attachment that keeps you standing

gone is the old wind trapped under earth
leaving a new face out sunning
the arriving faces, like soil and oxen, turn over these small pieces of ground

Read the rest here: https://crevice.ro/a-game-of-hands-rock-paper-scissors/ 

No one has loved enough

No one has loved me enough
you blink and tell me
to name stars after me

as if stars are lovers
when the night sky is lit

it is little moments we will remember.

rejection

Discarded are the hours
you never slept
judged by a mysterious hand

Modern friendship

Break
yourself open, like a walnut shell
you still dance in the shadow
become a hazy memory that calls nothing for glory.

Scout girl in uniform

Girl scout in uniform
beret in hand, smaller than half my waist

lifts her head up, demands
a treatment that is fair to her

despite the lack of fair skin
long hair, night-dark

a mother behind her, makes a scene
with her projected speeches

about respect. I wonder
when will I be able to raise a woman

of steel and feather
able to love and break as equally

as two sides of a coin
a woman unlike me

that has no bother with the things
left behind sunny days

this is the effect of one girl scout
asking for a glass of water to quench my thirst.

demanding parentage

Hard as stone
her demands, I complain to the wind
it hears me back with a song
she's your mother, isn't she? 

facing fear

like the start of a new month
like standing on a high tower
this is how we face fear

with a head that's never ready
with a heart that's careless

an almost knocked over glass

Almost knocked over the glass
in anger
these hands

an awkward second

Are we related?
the question comes up
as the waffle gets colder

not a portrait

tired eyes that cannot look ahead
this is your body, heavy and lumpy post the morning hours
yours and not yours at the same time
the way it is fixed : not a portrait
not a painting, just a mere reflection.