Desolate rain

Desolate  rain

A menacing fox walks

covered by a box

Doodles, peace

Doodles on the paper
this is how the artist
lets go of the tension

Snowy trees remind me of sparkles

On her nails, the sparkles
glisten like a tree
left in the snow all night

Smells like Christmas

It smells like Christmas in my kitchen,
smells like the time I stopped
in the heart of the house

right in the middle like a clot
not moving nor let anyone move
to make Christmas over cold stoves

here is a list of things you need for cake
that serves 6, realistically
even if you are on your own:

* peeled apples
* 3/4 sugar
* flour
* cinnamon
* nutmeg
* salt (to taste)

I stand on a flat corner
kneading the flour
needing a listening ear

I stand in the corner
in my house,
shaking like a belly dancer after a long show
cupping powdered sugar to an empty heart

Calamity

There is calm in calamity
the way there's a pip in an olive
lodged right in the middle,
felt at only when bitten into.

He is born

Rest assured, for He has been born 

the one who created heaven and earth 

the one who saves heaven from this earth.

time and this body

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

Elephants

Nothing more regal than an elephant
another sign for torture,
for others to be happy.

A wedding, unnecessary

There's an air that surrounds you
when you sit wrapping the night like a shawl

- that there have been silver linings, yours copper
- that there are smiles and expressions of love, yours void
- that there is another way to pick roses, yours is to plant
- that there are memories made between the laughs, your phone saves coversation
- that there is a new beggining

the night, cold wraps itself around your shoulders
when at the wedding you sit to think
of different ways to spell love
without slashing your wrists open by its glass.

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.

one hundred and two years old

one hundred and two years old
we are turned away from the face of the fire

by virtue of one document
oh, how important is paper to this land

taken out of the roots of its olives
splashed with the ink of hundreds tears

black as the day we were signed off
a place for no one, left for everyone

this is the fate of nations
for their kindness, a blow on the head

an increased hundred and two
years of pain washed out with sea-salt.

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! 

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

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.

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.  

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

A game of hands: rock, paper, scissors

it used to be a childhood play
that my hands would tell
your destiny

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

Flights,Birds, Skies

There is something the jailer does not know;
you can take the birds down from the sky

yet you cannot take the sky away from its inhabitants
it stays in them, because it has always been home

this is the sense of wings, there's a new power
that is given by virtue of the space that opens up

to contain the power of the flight
once taken, like a release, like freedom is to life.

a king

A light afternoon
glides like a caring king
because of the wails