grain
cyanotic whispers slither between heartbeats like a river ribbonning its shores among almond trees and night sways its liquid ebony hips over endless fields of thoughts – if we could stop the flow of sand how would we ever know that one perfect grain at which to break the hourglass? on my shoulder the song … Continue reading
Tides
thoughts leak their marrow in the silent room – where are the shadows of the foretime dreams? among the roots and branches of the gloom, among the gleams of yesterday’s perfume, where is the hope? what shallow salty streams became its tomb? when did my heart such bitterness befriend? the lightness of my youth, … Continue reading
sparrows chirp, flies fly
there are days when not enough shadow falls from the shoulders of trees and there’s nowhere you can hide from your thoughts. the taste of coffee, no matter how strong, how sweet, is only black, and seconds crash along its backbone – the wind carries the scent of drought as if it were a parasite, … Continue reading
whirl
under the heel of tomorrow you look and you sigh and all that you know becomes dust – the ever changing veins of roads tango around your pulse and you look and you sigh and all that you know has always some other shape, some other scent, maybe even some other name, but you know … Continue reading
Salty hands
Her hands were salty – and none could say if it was more salt because of the sweat or because of the tears. Her hands were salty and they miraculously shined next to the loafs of rye bread – just some other slices of the grayness of her life. Her hands were salty and they … Continue reading
shadows
The path from one thought to the next is barely bordered by the ghosts of grass blades which fed once upon a time on the death of a shadow. The longer the thought the sweeter the shadow and the sweeter the shadow the tenderer the silence. Look at my palms, tell me if you can … Continue reading
prints
put your palm on the ground, press it until you feel the dirt filling the space between your fingers, your striations, even your pores. now take it away, look at that print and leave. that print, filled with your gaze, will have been, in its (no matter how short) existence, no less precious or important … Continue reading
scars
this world is made of scars – a scar is every path we take on the face of the earth, just like a scar is that trace left behind by one of the countless falling raindrops. scarred is the air wounded by the wings of butterflies and scarred is the sky by our ever unsatisfied … Continue reading
flows
sometimes touching death can be soft, tender, delicately bitter, just like the feel of an almond flower which, no matter the taste of its seed, still blesses your senses with awe, and all you can do is realize that time will never ever be anything else but time. © Liliana Negoi 2017
“love thy neighbor”
raw blue flows over withered sands like a rain of quietness paving the path towards Eden with smaller heavens, shaped like tears, for light to walk upon them. from one side of the sky to the other, among clouds heavy with the footsteps of saints wandering, more and more often, from bottom to top, sometimes … Continue reading
Endless Journey 