Writer Between Worlds

Soulful writing about humans and places

Category: Life

The child

the child screams when he is born, for the world is cruel and sad and his mother’s bosom all flesh – as soft and as fragile as his. he was once whole. now he is but a part, cut off, severed.
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Pe cine

zilele trec fără să fie trăite se scurg înapoi în noaptea mută ca într-un fluviu mare și negru. să nu aștepți. să nu simți. înfășoară-ți inima într-un tifon îmbibat cu lidocaină: amorțește-o ca să vadă, dar să nu simtă. să simți a devenit indecent. ea bate, doar, neauzită. zilele trec fără să fie. pustiu. sunt…
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Talk

‘Let’s talk,’ he says and I think, ‘Sure, let’s hide inside our brains again and behind words so that we never feel the emotions we never live anything raw and real we never vibrate beyond the conceptual. And how do I say, “Inside, I’m all tears”?’ We don’t touch. We just talk about touching.
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Not even September

not even September and the rain dribbles down my windowpane, painlessly slow, quietly gray-in-gray the summer dust settles.
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And the green will be silent

thick burdock by the river and the musical trance of water flowing – a brook with its bubbling eddies and thirsty loud birds – and our years quietly passing, quietly leaking into the humid ground like fat dark nourishment and all this while, the working bee will be gathering nectar unknowingly and the green will…
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The One

everything feeds on everything else, we all dissolve into the bodies of others – a joyous play of alterity/sameness, we are all milk, bread, honey, meat, wine for this cosmic feast, this orgy of the gods. all of us just a fleeting, elusive, embodied drop of pureness.
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Poemul din vis

în pâlnia zorelelor zace nectarul zeilor, ele veghează noaptea tremurul lunii picurându-și parfumul în cosmos pe când eu mă topesc cu gândul la tine, secretând roua dulce a întregului. el, ea, ei, ele dorm, tu taci, respiri regulat; Totul tace. sub bolta arcuită, indigo – vibrația unui glob nesfârșit ce stă mereu să plesnească. (Notă:…
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Quote of the day

“… since the dominant belief system of the modern West is psychology, Westerners want to know if the spirits of the traditional view are thought to have independent agency, because if not, they can be explained in psychological terms as aspects of our own mind—which makes most Westerners quite comfortable and prompts them to nod…
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Quote of the day

“By focusing attention on the so-called “objective” consensus about a given object, our culture takes the most superficial layer of reality to be the primary one and thus fails to realize that it is the sum total of the different perspectives on the object that constitute its multidimensional reality. It is the so-called subjective dimension…
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The impurity of individuality (haikus)

chasing the me all over, I failed to sit with the them-ness of others – lost presence, lost fullness, lost bliss. fissures and shards will not make a vase.
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Pe când te iubeam

Pe când te iubeam, apusul ne înfiora ca atingerea unei aripi umede și calde. Noi, două pensule cu vârfurile înmuiate în zeama lui de piersică, ne caligrafiam tandru pielea: sărutul meu, cuibărit în căușul palmei tale, lucea; palma ta, aromată și udă, aluneca pe șoldurile mele, ca o tunică de mătase căzând; degetele deschideau întâi…
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Ambition

Digging your nails into the fabric of the world, you ripped its silken texture with your actions. Now, behold your designs: the beauty that might have run through you lies darkened and bloodied and drained. Poem inspired by LaoTse (Tao Te King)
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