i don’t want to be wise. on my stem
grow too many buds of doubtful colours
and among them doze adorable latches
from yet unopened doors, searching for
the heat of my palm.
i don’t need to be wise – it would be
of no use to me if i could count
the seconds until the next moment
when i’d weep with despair because
they still finished inventing numbers
and that’s why we repeat seconds ad infinitum –
and not just the seconds, but
their marrow too is repeating, leaking in our palms
and on our bodies and in our eyes, gluing the sand beneath our soles
and giving us the illusion of a progress.
while we strive to become wiser
everything passes by us, and we remain,
like some illiterate spectators,
in the same place, failed for life

© 2014 Liliana Negoi
 originally written in Romanian

2 Responses to “school”
  1. Sir Morose says:

    You never fail to amaze me with your depth of beautiful words and thoughts. This is just wonderful.

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