Whose pleasure
youre good sometimes could this be flawless feet through the skeletons a hair career beckons ambition flames him storing bad [...]
admin 2018-08-21T17:23:30+00:00 August 1st, 2003|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 33|0 Comments
youre good sometimes could this be flawless feet through the skeletons a hair career beckons ambition flames him storing bad [...]
admin 2018-08-21T17:23:29+00:00 August 1st, 2003|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 33|0 Comments
Translated by: Lidija Dimovayou spoke about the invisible world about the ghosts wandering on the roof tops about hidden beauty [...]
admin 2018-08-21T17:23:29+00:00 August 1st, 2003|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 33|0 Comments
Translated by the authorbright morning in the pieces of glass rising thousands of suns
admin 2018-08-21T17:23:31+00:00 June 1st, 2003|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 32|0 Comments
Summer was fading away with lingering violet bells – Sound after sound from invisible churches Through the long town we [...]
admin 2018-08-21T17:23:30+00:00 June 1st, 2003|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 32|0 Comments
You want to know how I spend my time? I walk the front lawn, pretending to be weeding. You ought [...]
admin 2018-08-21T17:23:32+00:00 March 1st, 2003|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 31|0 Comments
Ear against the boom box I wait for her word to exalt me give meaning to the things I do [...]
admin 2018-08-21T17:23:31+00:00 March 1st, 2003|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 31|0 Comments
First full moon of the year - and it's trapped in a bare tree!
admin 2018-08-21T17:23:33+00:00 March 1st, 2003|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 31|0 Comments
”She paints angels fairly well,” my friend said, ignoring the small lens through each black eye painted clear enough for [...]
admin 2018-08-21T17:23:33+00:00 January 1st, 2003|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 30|0 Comments
Translated by: Daniela GiurculescuAll laughed and went away As if our short life was meant to be laughed at Some [...]
admin 2018-08-21T17:23:33+00:00 January 1st, 2003|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 30|0 Comments
This road alone was left before me. It is a forest or a tale; dirigibles land on the roofs as [...]