River glides gently,
over stones it carries soft...
a lover’s laughter.

He
inhales his cigarette deeply
he, with cold feet
he,
his voice hoarse like Tom Waits,
he watches a Britney Spears reel
where she dances with knives.
He,
reads the Odyssey
so he may read Ulysses.
He,
falls asleep
and in dreams
he calls my name.

The fisherman, even in dreams,
stands by the city river, rod in hand,
waiting with hope,
watching others on the opposite bank.

And in this dream he catches
the largest fish  a trout.
He thinks: Such a species no longer lives
in the city river

Perhaps he will let it go,
or show it to his friends across the water.
He thinks: It is truly beautiful.
At last, he realizes it is only a dream.

He wakes, rises from bed,
prepares himself,
still thinking of his dream:
Maybe today luck will smile on me

In the heat of summer
the river’s breeze will dry his sweat.
Once more he looks, with hope,
toward his friends.

I wish to retreat,
perhaps to a cabin in the woods,
or, like Iris Murdoch’s hero,
to settle near the sea…

It has been so long
since I have felt true solitude.
I long for that silence
that only it can bring
to sit in stillness
and listen to my own thoughts,
to cook only for myself
and savor each single bite,
untouched by the street’s noise
that might disturb
my quiet comfort.

Somewhere far away, deep in the forest,
animals dwell
some hide from predators,
yet more dangerous still
is the rifle of a hungry hunter.

He returns home with prey,
switches his plasma TV
to the Discovery Channel,
slices the animal’s flesh
to feed himself.

He sets the table,
eats,
and at last,
with half-closed, weary eyes,
lights a cigarette
the final act,
before locking the door
and collapsing into sleep.

Fly away black bird, perhaps you'll encounter a carcass or someone kind will offer it to you.

You'll hide in the dry bushes with food, Your black feathers will flutter in the wind, satisfied and full, your body will heavily descend again to the ground.

If they gifted you an artificial flower,
it doesn’t mean they don’t love you,
it just means I will stay with you forever,
thinks the lover…

It carries the scent of pure elixir,
and if you don’t burn it,
you cannot silence the “me” inside them.

Red red red,
artificial artificial artificial,
roses roses roses,
in a white marble vase,
until nausea
artificial…