Floating plushie

Love-bound or A Call in the Middle of the Night Love is born late As the sun rises, and so it sets upon the darkest nights. Love is born late - out of despair broken hearts missed opportunities unforgivable sins accepted truths transfixed returns unlikely repairs. You don't have to reason with it The heart has its own reasons. Love is born late When no one expected it any more as everything seemed...

The Onion Girl Peach Boy (if you haven't heard the tale of Momotarou, now would be the best time to look it up) would be happy to know there's an Onion Girl out there unless he was too afraid she would make him cry. Peach Boy was born in the Land of the Rising Sun a long, long time ago, in immemorial times, while Onion Girl comes from another time, from our modern times when anyone has their own s...

It's so refreshing to read someone else's poetry, to walk in their shoes for a while, to get where you wish to get yourself following someone else's lead.  Everything floats in a solitary act, and if I were to give an example at hand, putting pen to paper is a solitary act; writing, scripting, or deciding to put yourself out there is a solitary act - an urge, [for some people] a cal...

If it happens, it happens; if it doesn't, it doesn't. Couscous happens without too much thinking, carrying the seeds that you need to water at boiling point. You'd say it's easy to happen - if it happens. The trouble starts when it doesn't. I've heard it gets all gooey, or all dry, it lingers unfulfilled, a purpose in the back of your mind, waiting. Have you seen someone know how to wait when acti...

I've had a thing about time lately; it feels like I won't stop thinking and talking about it, at least not anytime soon. So, you'll be hearing me rambling on about it.  "Time is a chip off the old sacred block of Time, having a more linear structure, carrying that DNA as an impossible long-distance runner, the one that gets in the way of everything and 'ages' backwards by falling back into it...

The Cats' Apocalypse "Lazily, a cat carries itself through the streets of a small town, full body length, going from one end of the town to the other. This town is elongated, following the course of its two streams, of its two-dimensional character, made up of the lofty mountain cap and the underground solitude of soil, shrouded in pit coal secrecy, deeply buried underneath. Someone called it a di...

to Sia I didn't think I'd be using this poem, written on another occasion, to say goodbye to a dear friend. (...) It's perspective. Though. Going back to that touch of a hand. Nothing silky about it: linen cloth, earthen sheet, solid mud, And, then, the knocked off, cracked parchment of this soil. Or that. And a handful smell of. Remember the old, the leftover. The lineage. She did. She carried. Y...

You won't know what time is like, what the passage of time is like until you kiss its cheek. A kiss on the cheek of time is not the same for everyone. Every person remembers it differently and may even add shades of gentle lies, or tone down misconceptions. Their own, or others'. You might see it come down to a self-induced memory of a cheek that grows old, but goes back a long way to the plump, r...

Boats and Earth Life and other things. Who will sail them? Row, row, row your boat... or set sail.  Let's be sober about it and not get high on false hopes, or else we'll just have to sail close to the wind. Let's face it: we're between the devil and the deep blue sea, it all depends on the perspective, although this time, we won't have one or the other, it's not either going down with the sh...

A prose poem I wrote in Romanian a couple of years ago, and, now, thought it'd be worth recording in both languages. However, the English version might have lost something in translation, and is more of an adaptation than a faithful translation. Origami în doi stând în picioare putea vedea mai bine totul: petala irisului din faţă, bambuşii din spate, profilele bine croite ale broaştelor. auzul îi...

I'm deciding right here, right now that I'm going to invent my podcast persona. " And if the stars shine on the pond   And light its sombre shoal,    It is to quench my mind's despond   And flood with peace my soul.  " And If... [ https://www.estcomp.ro/eminescu/andneagu.html ] Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.