Friday, April 10, 2015

The Firebirds

Morning. The dry leaves and the sandy-smooth poplar trunks overhear the trill of the Firebirds. Shhh...let us pause for a moment, and listen. A smile from one of us is the greatest of their pleasures. The water flowing from the faucet here refracts the color of the red wall onto the white enamel, another vision of fire. On your collarbone rests a necklace of dancing crystals, visible only to a certain sort of eyes. They know the way to the snow-covered highlands, and whisper its name. A throbbing flame has been lit in the temple there, and also another, above your clavicle; between a pair of shoulders, appears a pair of bright wings.

Afternoon. On this document in two languages there is the stamp of a notary. It is now official. You hesitate, and then let it pass from your hands so that it can fly across the globe. It is now time to cut these threads between you and the River Yauza. It is done. Are these your tears, or are they a dragon's blood? Ah, Lucia, all my life I wanted to tell you, your heart was the key to a thousand suns, although you enjoy sipping on your doubt, as if it were an aged wine.

White Chrysanthemum (Egon Schiele)

Evening. And what if peace had been pursuing you, and you had fled it for so long, you had forgotten why: a tranquility as dark and sublime as the shadows between the petals of a white chrysanthemum. (Alyosha, my little one, they never did find me, and you never came to any harm. We will be safe here, and together always, hiding inside this flower.)

And what if then you had a word from the Lord of Sound: Hush, my dear. Weep no more for me. Your new piety shall be as a silken sigh. So let your breath be your beauty, my own.  It shall be exactly so simple, just like this: "Ahh...."

Come, now, and join with the rest of us in this celestial conference.

Chistie Prudi (Talkov)

My dear Telemachus,

The Trojan War 

is over now; I don't recall who won it. ....

...and your dreams, my Telemachus, are blameless. 

--Joseph Brodsky

(Odysseus to Telemachus)

Wednesday, April 08, 2015

Cosmic Fairytale (Estas Tonne, Vienna, 2011) would not be interesting, if all of us had the same story...but what if we allowed ourselves to dream....?



A modern wandering troubadour, Estas Tonne was born in the former USSR, in Ukraine; he has lived in a number of other countries, including Israel and the United States. 

Monday, April 06, 2015


From the mouth of dark
shards so clip to the ground
where the wind is afraid of blood
a shattered vase

a scream
lives there

cherry blossoms sift
onto wild camellia
sorting pieces

a glass bird mosaic
blinks awake
its cries
the birth of light

the ash of the rose
into the eye
of the sun


(for erin) when i ask, where have the redpolls gone, and why the silence at my seed station your eyes, unbidden twin candles startle ...

popular on this site