There's no better friend to any merchant than a fair competitor.
I've read some of your modern free verse and wonder who set it free.
The poet is not only a savior, but he is the savior of the words. He takes out the words from their natural state and gives them a state of grace.
What I can not forget That my mother has the soul of God Parallel universes
The thought and heart: Thought has the same nature as sun Brightens with shadows The world would be lived with heart Only the heart can feel Which the thought is not able to see But without...
The girl of wax: What the point For mallow flower, Having the white moon ... The leaf of copper Remark How it is falling apart ... How is descending The girl of wax. For last time... RightWords...
True poems are begining where they end up on paper.
The cave Each one of us is hiding a mystery And carefully we wrap it in regrets As a raft craving for sun In rooms with secret doors. And we believe that our in the worst, But we are burying it...
Traces: In the morning I've seen on the streets Cracked traces of soles, Freshly printed in asphalt. Maybe my father has looked for me To takes me back In the countryside. World order RightWords...
Clear architecture of the night, discerned with difficulty in the landscape ... What hour - shaking being silent in the tower of darkness - death and life together devour them? Nothing untouched...
Far Away: Who would've had so much darkness To be, to have been said? Who sees how death comes In my spirit the grim reaper? Night falls from somewhere, far away, Moving the ray from darkness into...
nothing to understand: you open the book passing your soul over its old parchment - a pale light starts suddenly flowing - a poisoned spear falls down bloody wars corpses ever more deeply slashed...
exhausted sunset: I have seen Reality trailing its changing shadow behind: blue nebulae crouching in the corner of your eye an exhausted sunset pinning down a patch of sky - of course, I’m...
Blooming limes I feel enlightened up to my last loneliness I am a saint of the whole flower from Earth Poetries, 1979
The shadow The words have shadow like the milestones like trees and vines like truth beyond which there is still something else. RightWords Translation
If you love me If you love me, by spells of wishing I will turn all the stars of heaven in tears of joy and lunatic kisses. If you hate me, I will turn all your thoughts of hating in fire...
At the end of summer Oxen are chewing the hay of silence. Parallel universes
Bird's eye Bird's eye is still alive in the mouth of cat it is following me days after days and nights after nights. Just a second I caught its spark of life flickering thrilled - it was divine....
Poetry is an experience of solitude.
Being a poet is a job that hurts! Inventeme
The worship of wolves I am in a room full of wolves. I go to bed and sleep with wolves, I drink water with them. Now I can think about my life. They are watching me and just can wait a sign...