On the first day I was brave ( Read more... )

Each heartbeat and breath
Come with a blissful effort
As I'm driving south
And both the air and the blood
Are thick with happiness.

I go over the ground ( Read more... )

You know everything about me.
It is the most all-encompassing complete superb embrace.
You put these ultimate toys in my hands
That I will never want to put down -
First the rosary
Now this endless palette of colors.
My soul is bursting into a flaming pink volcano
My mind is flowing up high in all the shades of creamy milky white.


( Read more... )

I am taking a wet, savage pleasure
In looking at you, listening to you.
I am not even ashamed or dismayed,
For nothing ever felt so right to me.

Neither walking down a candle-lit path
At my own wedding (this poem writes itself),
Nor watching my child being circumcized
Gave me such sense of grounded, secure peace.

Not out of pressure,
Deadlines, guilt and neediness,
But out of leisure,
Sorrow and gladness of heart
Do I want to research things.

As with anyone else,
the climate between us could change.
Theoretically,
it might become unsustainable
for one or both of us
to keep up this oasis.

But you are virtuous,
not just a drifter.

Should worse come to worst,
you will not leave me alone with it
or allow everything that was
disappear into the thirsty sand
without a glance of recognition.

When you are around ( Read more... )

Like my dear friend says,
There are three modalities
Of creating art.
The service of the Muses,
Pleasure, and application.

Once you apply
For the right to be audienced,
You probably dream
Of becoming at some point
A standard upon yourself.

Жизнь совершенна.
Жизнь точна.
Одна лишь мысль
О совершенстве белого цветка
Переполняет душу ликованьем
И ужасом,
И немотой, и пеньем.

***
Life is perfect.
Life is precise.
The absolute perfection
of a white flower
fills me with awe and joy,
muteness and singing.