Praying for Apocalypse I

The Master
was making paper birds
origami
Japanese cranes
took to their wings noisily
They put him into straightjacket
then he was dreaming about visitors
heroes of ancient times came to him
boddhisatvas
wise immortals
joyful like children
they forbade visitors
he asked to be crucified
his doctor explained the mistake
and didn't let him to wash his skullcap
Marguerite deep in thought
sharpens knives.

Prayer for Apocalypse II

Please borrow me your fur
dear Behemot
Here come heavy days cold days
days of stone
and borrow me your checkered companion
and crows
because I'm starving to death
Let the avalanche of tears
tumble down
over laugh shelter
God has the face of your Sire
and the Master is
Marguerite
hidden behind
Abbadona's sunglasses

Helen

she has no face to speak of
and eccentric smile
looking for young love
she comes back to her
faithful husband
But plenty of warriors
happy with their rifles
go to Troy
just for the kiss of her scythe
liberating them
from the stomach
of the wooden horse

Madwoman

furtive glance
someone here
tries to avoid
someone behind my back
He looks
he looks the other way
again
is he the same one
I know
my shadow tells me
I'm not saying anything
I'm silent
I know better
my shadow knows better
I pretend I'm Hamlet
aiming at the shape
behind a curtain
blood
everybody ashamed

Dante and Beatrice

she died too young
her shadow entangled me
at nights she asked me
for five minutes
only for five minutes
world was naked
 I carried her
like a cloak on shoulders
like a child in a womb
she was outside and inside
flowing current
I was dying
I carried her
to Heaven
through hell
I wanted so much
to be rid of her
Now
kneeling between pieces
of dry - dusty scenery
I pray
for the return
of my beloved death
for five minutes
only for five minutes

Peter Pan

And here Neverland lies before you like a plate
Gaudi's trees lift themselves up the clouds.
Golden sickle of the beach glitters. It's everything
left out
of Captain’s hook.
But you can get hold of this island
and pick it up
by its hair.
No, enough.
the shadow is safely tied up for today.
Today everything is obedient
because Wendy grew up
and found the real name of this land
Ariel

Et ego in Arcadia

Arcadia not lost nor forgotten
only we weren't there for such a long time
ways sealed up will be back when we
step by step
try to go back
let them burn
leaves
autumn gives way for winter
it makes place for sun
don't ask anybody
where the road is
inborn memory will wake up in time
Arcadia never lost never forgotten

Angel

Now the banners disappear over the hill
There was sun somewhere
who would remember it
This crash
they fluttered when passing
This roar
disappearing but visible yet
they carried themselves
as a roar
colors carried themselves
as a roar
this crash was sun
this roar lifted our heads
We shouted
we shouted again
our tongues were banners' tongues
our tongues were not ours anymore
we were our tongues
There was no mercy
Only banners

Drang nach osten

Hail!
Hands shooting up.
Storm.
The hail falls.
Sturm und Drang.

Wine, wind and water

The miller is back. His pupils
forgot the art of water and wind.
But soon Ezekiel's windmills
will find the real wind
and water under the circle
start to turn
bubbling
into the wine.
Hail, Fisherman,
look at woken up fish circling and circling
around the maypole
of a waterfall.

Dark Joan

She was neither stupid nor illiterate
She was from great family of Shepherds
Who came here every millennium
saying
What is skillfully locked has no lock
Yet cannot be opened
What is skillfully bound cannot be untied
Though there is no binding rope
Ancient words half remembered
And wondered at in Jerusalem
You cannot kill the myth
And through the mask of the big lie
Truth shines through
Et ego in Tenebris Lucem Orienti video.

South is Up the Map

What was someday a woman's breast sometimes happens to be a penis
an axle and the wheel looked at from specific point sometimes look like a cross
***
We look at food at its colors feel the smell the taste the texture
It gives us pleasure or not but
We die without it
And then we have to empty our bowels
We look at world at its colors feel the smell the taste the texture
It gives us pleasure or not but
We die without it
And then we have to create something
Where is the sense?
Behind your back
Apparently

Sandy Sunday

First, I am Sandy, little girl made out of salt and sand.
And I am Sunday, little girl, made out of sun and sound.
Even if I till sunset live and never see the night
I'm back on beach after one week as if I never died.
Perhaps one day my part of beach for glass art will be used
Then I will wake in Sunday clothes for fire price is just.

Cargo Worship (Year 100 after Apocalypse)

When he went out for good, after long discussions they decided to go through his things. And they found something forbidden. A figurine. Like all these cursed Roman and Greek things, it was naked. If he, between all men and teachers, kept an effigy of a man, it had to be something important. And it was full of needles. Or thorns. An effigy of a man encircled with thorns. Yeah, they decided, it had to be important for the master and they have to keep it. They put it back into silk cloth and into the wooden box. They talked between themselves about it from time to time, trying to understand the importance of it.
The next generation learned about the man encircled with thorns, or "crowned with thorns", and, as elders could say nothing definite about it they believed it the portrait of the Master. They never noticed small letters on the base: "Acupuncture model. Made in Hong Kong".

Joan from Rainbow

The arc which holds the heaven up (it never falls on our heads)
The bow to shoot down ten hot suns (they never burn the clouds again)
The bridge you find when falling down (because the way up is way down)
How put to cinder all these things? How to destroy a rainbow sign?
Is there enough wood for the stake to burn lakes, thunders, clouds and rain?

Long distance call. Stay in touch.

Sometimes you are thinking you are behind bars
(when you are laying on bed)
but it is only your ladder to heaven
looked at from wrong side
(stand up and move, babe)

Master and Marguerite part II

It's time to say goodbye
don't ask if your little basement room
will burn up later
or if someone will paint it afresh
Even if your enemy would feel at home
between things you considered your own
who cares about toys already forgotten
when going home

Victor & Victoria

I.
I met Christ today He was a woman
He said Enough of this wall between lovers
And I met an angel He smiled with his two sets of lips
And divided himself Into female and male
I shouldn't talk about it There are men in black
Behind my back Trying to keep my mouth closed
II.
The Lady from my dream My unwanted burden
The one who jumped on my back When I was looking for a hero (And the horse was carrying
white armor)
The Dragon Lady I hate so much No matter what purpose she had on mind
The one who did not die (If she did she would never put me into such ordeal)
Is armed with steel crossbow And know how to use it
(And I am not afraid of fire) Who cares
After three years of work in Demon region
Rewards are coming from the great kingdom.

Blue Jean

come for me in your big black taxi Mister Death
people say your price is too high
but I have nothing and you take me for a ride every time I need it
let's have a cigarette and chat
as we are used to
I would like to give you something
perhaps my fountain pen I'm so fond of
nothing more I have
nothing of value and besides
to whom I could bequeath it?
no one is closer to me than you

Meditating under apple tree

Sitting under an apple tree in summer, with butterfly on my wrist, I asked the nearest leaf what it thinks about immortality.
It said: "death comes when days are shorter, then I'll fall down, I'll be burned or mould and nothing of me will be left, it'll be just the end of me, so this fable, immortality, doesn't exist at all. But I heard also that the wind carries us all to Heaven."
The second leaf said to me: "I heard that I'll be back from death on spring, but I will have new and fresh memory, not knowing I already lived."
I asked the third leaf what it thinks about autumn and death.
It said: "the tree is immortal, our father and mother, but I live just for a moment. I am looking for Nirvana, for unity with the tree."
I asked the tree then what it thinks about immortality.
It said: "I am every leaf and I remember them all. Every year new leaves appear on my branches, but their all lives I remember because they are me. My life flows through them and I remember my past. I hope after my death to recall I am the Earth."
I asked the fourth leaf what it thinks about father tree.
It said "an archetype of a leaf exist only in dreams. It is false hope. Look at me, at my veins, from them we took this ideal image of a "tree". Our naked skeletons, seen when we die, gave our ancestors the idea of a immortal being. They never saw what is the next, the moulding and burning. They thought it the ultimate, never ending stage of our lives. This magical being, the tree, never was really real. Every reasonable leaf knows that."
I asked: "Do you see from what you take your blood?"
It said "Its ways of nature, there is nothing alive or sentient in substance I grow on".
I looked at butterfly. It smiled and flied away. And I recalled then the feeling of using its wings.

Lady Hu

In her white splendid armor
Too proud to keep her mouth shut
About things she knew and friends from Oakwood
No princes for her to marry
She was just a messenger from real King
Her legend was not a fairy tale
And the Dauphin was not a Prince Valiant
But stupid boy
Scared to death with her clairvoyance
Like everybody else at his court
Lady Hu
So old and so young with her nine fox tails
Dying in her cage and kept upright by five chains
One for every limb and one for her neck
Living picture of golden rule
(Do you remember Leonardo da Vinci?)
Learning learning
Human nature
And sold to the count of the name of Wormwood
To be silent wife
And never try her luck in France again
How they both laughed

Qintin, the Chant

Doors are open. Mauled jailers bleed.
Out of the prison earth and water meet.
Walls are broken. Barbed wire cut up.
Within the garden sky burns in a cup.

Quasimodo

The one
who looked at beautiful priests in white,
hearing his heart going faster and faster
the one never loved
the one
with the unspoken burden
on his curved back
had his wish fulfilled
and was born as a woman
but he is his old self
the property
of Our Lady Solitude

For Andrew

Married men
Suck in their potato bellies when pass attractive women
and try to scratch out last week egg from sadly hanging tie
Married men
Smell with their wives' toilet soaps and vegetable soup
and, sometimes, with children diapers and yesterday milk
Married men
Murmuring to themselves in the mirror about their maleness and
ability to make happy thousands of women and hiding out money
which, otherwise, would go down the drain, for instance, for food,
not for something reasonable like vodka
Married men
making pass at unmarried girls with the grace of a turtle
Married men, sexual non-objects
sleep with newspapers on their faces, pages fluttering with their heavy breaths
when TV blares out Argentina series
every day they eat their everyday dinner with their everyday wives
and tea is watery and knives blunt
and blind people try to cut plates in two.

Judas

It was them sitting around whom did not have enough love.
See the loop on my neck? It is my dog collar.
Your hand put it on me and I keep it with pride
Because of raging fire of this renowned kiss
You asked. Nobody stood up. But I was already yours
My prize is in punishment and merit in my guilt
Because it was your word I made into the rope
It tied us both for ever, gave us contrary names
And let me be the traitor if you become the king
I went as your messenger to bring us death of twins.

Avalon, Apple Island

Sleeping child inside an apple
Left and right united.
Servant snake making miracles
Sleeping child delighted.

Middle Kingdom

Steel fans of screeching wipers cut
in pieces taillights' blood-red lights
and piercing glitter of car-paints
The sky is dangerous and near
as too long abandoned wharf
where winter dances round and round
Winds throw ice-pellets at the glass
and traffic jam holds me in tongs

A cinema is on my left
A cemetery on my right
and in the middle just I am
and in the middle is my hurt
The after -image of my hurt
The after - image of my dreams
I learn from it about dream - lands
as from the sand of deep sea sound

Paradise Is Lonely Place

Looking for my love
I found a man without face
And people laughed
And demons wept
And this man without face was silent

Looking for my love
I found he was never born
And people laughed
And demons wept
And this man without face was silent

I put mourning clothes
For my love who was never born
And cursed all wombs
And cursed all plans
But this man without face was silent

I put mourning clothes
For my love who was never born
And people laughed
And demons wept
And I understood who is who

Freedom

A cup of coffee at a gas station.
Somewhere. No hurry. No destination.
Trees shiver under first summer rain.

* A Course in Guidance, text of Huang -Lao school, around 500 years B.C. Mawangdui finds, 1973 - 1974.