vessel

Posted by Author on March 29, 2012 · 1 Comment 

wheel spinning crushes dawns and dusks, grinding them and sieving them in a bowl of clay meant only to gather, and on the edge of the bowl – lo! word’s breath   © Liliana Negoi

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vanity

Posted by Author on March 28, 2012 · 1 Comment 

                    © Liliana Negoi  

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luminous – flash fiction

Posted by Author on March 23, 2012 · Leave a Comment 

She sat there, with the precious stillness of a Tanagra, frozen beneath the cascade of magnolia petals – and all that sunrise was able to do was to jewel her aura with fiery reflexes, as if she was Amaterasu herself, borrowing for a while the limits of flesh with the sole purpose of proving the … Continue reading →

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fume

Posted by Author on March 22, 2012 · 3 Comments 

[…] in my palm drunken with stains of sunrise a moth searches for the path of yesterday while rays vibrate under the voice of a blackbird, like a violin string swooshing ‘neath a fidlestick sounds glide, blunt and sharp, and light shivers in search for a fulcrum within them – the moth is doomed to … Continue reading →

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spring cleaning – sonnet

Posted by Author on March 16, 2012 · 3 Comments 

i’ll plant my roots inside the bones of march and sip the sunlight flowing through its veins, an apple tree will be my spinal arch, its blossoms meant to keep my thoughts in chains, beneath my eyelids, icicles of salt will melt into swift rivulets of green and i will spring myself outside my vault … Continue reading →

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shards

Posted by Author on March 6, 2012 · 3 Comments 

that’s all that lies in my thoughts tonight and all that my sleepless tired eyes see is a little bit of this and a little bit of that, twisted and covered with social make-up, a grotesque kaleidoscope of pieces none of them really beautiful but then again not really ugly either, bad venetian mirror replicas … Continue reading →

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pins and needles in god’s tongue

Posted by Author on March 5, 2012 · 1 Comment 

[…] you say “surreal”… there’s no such thing as “surreal” – things beyond the reach of the numb limbs of our conscience need not the blessing of our knowledge to exist but figure this: words do not need us to survive – and when we pluck them randomly from god’s tongue we barely cream their … Continue reading →

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