Writer Between Worlds

Soulful writing about humans and places

Category: Natur

  • Heat

    this smothering. this incandescence. this slowing down of industry. this blistering disintegration into idle particles – placid, primordial, like the silence, pierced only by the terrified barking of the lone dog desperate to sound brave. this viscous, heavy blinding doubling down on your shoulders. this begging for a breeze, the impossibility of shade and the…

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  • Membrane

    today I’d like to be a poet – nothing more. slow, silent, wistful – pure organic membrane wrapped around this cosmos built from rock and cold. lonely pulsating membrane through which the unseen ripples.

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  • Night sky (haiku)

    nothing means anything but the night sky, all those dead stars still glinting.

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  • Why?

    why am I woman and not apple blossom bee grass blue heron seabed? the same cosmic black tongue coiling around them all and licking the plate clean.

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  • Corsica 2026

    I returned to Corsica after 21 years, the same way a grown woman revisits her first love trying to understand what might have been and what she missed back then.Corsica outside the tourist season is the kind of rough gem you explore at the pace of your own breath. It is a proud mare no…

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  • Toamna (haiku)

    Toamna (haiku)

    Înflăcărarea se stinge în râuri moi de pace mută.

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  • No photos

    Crows on a dying treetop, scattered on its bare branches before taking flight. Crickets in grass, loud, and reeds slowly slanting below blue mountains, crimson suns and clouds like cotton of the purest white. I take no photos and no hostages from this: I simply watch how the marvels explode on an organic retina that…

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  • Și de sus ninge cu pene

    Și de sus ninge cu pene

    Fă-mă arbore, îi șoptesc nucului, cu trupul cald lipit de trunchiul lui rece și aspru, să întind brațe interminabile către cer, din care să îmi crească alte brațe și tot așa, să adun cu ele lumina – mai multă! mai multă! – să mă hrănesc cu ea, să văd de sus lumea cum treceprin timp…

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  • On Leaving My Walled Garden

    I hugged each tree trunk one by one, caressed each stalk, each stem, each textured leaf, each evanescent petal that now is a fresh-scented pink and by dawn, sallow, already reeks of wilted tissue and, with eyes closed,I breathed. I breathed and I touched. I mapped bark creases and crevasses, patterns of smoothness and ridges,…

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  • Saying Goodbye to a Tree

    I hugged the tree in my garden yesterday as it spread its arms out into that empty space that summer weaves out of vapor and linden fragrance. I hugged my tree yesterday held it tight bark against cheek and whispered my goodbyes. It felt rooted and rough I entered its shy shade like one enters a…

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  • Carpathian cow-keeper

    Carpathian cow-keeper

    Come, come look at the cows, he says, just cross this little brook, don’t worry it is not too cold, and never mind this blue rope here, I will untie it in no time. I wrap it ‘round the bushes so the cows think it’s electric and don’t get away I tend to about 20…

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  • As mourning follows night*

    As mourning follows night*

    back home I sleep with my ears unplugged the windows flung wide open into the guzzling night I remain watchful here, in the places my people have – one by one –trickled into the fatty earth I dive into the holes they left – deep dark enticing pools of fresh darkness – I eavesdrop: the…

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