exil, elixier

Johanna Domokos,

Sovata, Romania

transit, station

i noticed
that for the stations
we do not have roots
wherever you go
women with rising hearts
males with common
children calling them home

and they are walled up
within you

and you are the twelve masons
and the twelve masons
live setting off on
several journeys


csomó, pontok

two l
or more
might turn
to mutualities
separate units
into wholeness


dark, white

darkness lives with me here
in the tunnel of the signs
if no stifling onto ourselves
this can be walked with you: white
release the darkness
as flag his gown: white
the left life becomes light and
transits the dark
like needle in the hand
by the time
time dies
everything clears

eternal, moment

this moment radiates
its joy
the other one
makes me pack and
extends its sadness
a constant validity
and it continues
while packing and unpacking is needed


painful, insignificant

for tzveta sofronieva

we form ideas about life
how sensitive our body land/e/scape
how is to struggle in it
how is to be intellectual minority
angel woman companion
become an orphan and be the one found
while all this is painful and insignificant
and we are happy

and when we move on
nothing changes
nothing tears in us apart
just as the present flows
the bribe /or according to
dictionary its half sisters:
present das gift offering/


to be /human/, or not to be

dusty passengers the words
ask nothing with
lips profoundly tired they would like to sleep
after overtimes overdistances
this is not the travel
where there is arrival
for a lonely passenger
herself is her talking family
her friends her incentive companions
the secret so much pulled apart
as the directions the word lives in her
and she has to listen more to
the puzzlesong
of fixing the moments to each other