Writer Between Worlds

Soulful writing about humans and places

Category: Literatur

  • People call it October (II)

    it’s always best when you don’t know where you’re going. let the path take you where you need to be. if your feet hurt, sit on the bristling grass, straddle the shoulder of that hill, whisper a loving prayer, or maybe even weep a little. put one foot forward – doesn’t matter which, but don’t…

    Read more: People call it October (II)

  • People call it October (I)

    I walk. I think nothing of it. I walk. I hear nothing but the raspy sound my boots make on pebbles the wheezing past of dragonflies in their autumnal attire the leaves – still green, crackling dry, floating in silence without aim. people jogging, imagining they’re going places. dust. hearts beating, heaving, panting, the trunks…

    Read more: People call it October (I)

  • Quote of the day

    “To pit oneself against the mountain is necessary for every climber; to pit oneself merely against other players, and make a race of it, is to reduce to the level of a game what is essentially an experience. (…) What he values is a task that, demanding of him all he has and is, absorbs…

    Read more: Quote of the day

  • Quote of the day

    “More and more of us live more and more separately from contact with nature. We have come increasingly to forget that our minds are shaped by the bodily experience of being in the world – its spaces, textures, sounds, smells and habits – as well as by genetic traits we inherit and ideologies we absorb.…

    Read more: Quote of the day

  • On the outside, looking in

    This, this, I tell myself, this see-through envelope of blueness that contains us, this fluid in which we move, this shallow film of sunlight collecting into magnanimous pools, rippling, cascading, eroding, building its deep dark wells of forgetfulness, turning our chunky limbs of flesh into ethereal shadows that precede us slanting, hovering, levitating, always one…

    Read more: On the outside, looking in

  • Finding one’s way home

    To my Romanian followers: My good friend and travel guide co-author, Claudia Tănăsescu, returned to Timisoara, Romania from Brussels some 10 years ago. She has documented her journey back and her search for a reconstructed notion of home in a heartfelt, poetic, and often funny multimodal text that is both autobiographical novel and photo project.…

    Read more: Finding one’s way home

  • Today’s flash fiction

    To my Romanian followers: You can read my contribution to the topic of “Beer” in the FB flash fiction group “Ficțiuni Reale”, here, or below. Again, in less than 520 characters including spaces: La o bere “Tăcerea e asurzitoare. Doar telefonul piuie. Îmi scrie el. Din delegație. Poemul zilei? Vezi că o să-ți vină o factură…

    Read more: Today’s flash fiction

  • The Wall

    For my Romanian followers: read now my flash fiction piece “The Wall” (Zidul) in the FB Group “Ficțiuni reale”, here. Or, if you prefer, read the full text below (520 characters max., including spaces): Zidul Ce trece timpul, ai zis când ne-am revăzut după 15 ani în munții ăia dragi, între noi pruncul acela ucis, hotarul…

    Read more: The Wall

  • Watch for timelessness instead

    Originally posted on Writer Between Worlds: a watch is a little glass prison for time – ? where the seconds serve a life sentence without the possibility of parole. ? people like to wear captive time around their wrist. when all the seconds are numbered and can never escape, they call the watch good. ?…

    Read more: Watch for timelessness instead

  • A Valentine’s present

    Dear friends and followers, Valentine’s is upon us. If you’re still wondering what to gift your special someone this spring, I have a very special surprise for you. The second edition of my poetry collection BEHOLD THE SEARING WIND, containing some of the most popular poems on this blog as well as many others, is…

    Read more: A Valentine’s present

  • Thinking in haikus (3)

    The austere sun gaping its hungry mouth: unfrozen streets, hushed voices. Thin gauze of floodlight, birds in wedding fever, boughs rotating lifeward. Young insects dashing, daring, thin cellular membrane of hope pulsates.

    Read more: Thinking in haikus (3)

  • Thinking in haikus (2)

    Under the blinding sun I dream of quiet crisp- ness, Japanese pines. A forest muted by snow. Shy deer and ripe cones. The vastness singing.

    Read more: Thinking in haikus (2)