Category: Poetry

as Ogo was just a simple cat after all but since then he never could forget these eyes staring straight at him like from the other side of life

Arrangements

I will belong to that city I die in, mourned in that language.

In the prairie across from My mother’s apartment, We find, in the moonlight, Bones, laying humble On the black ground, More ash than dirt, From the controlled burn The firemen had to set.

Entangled leaves and roots fighting for existence as if they somehow knew beyond what they experience significance ends.

the iron gate creaks in the dark dawn breeze and I hear, ‘Ma is nowhere. Daddy, ma is nowhere.’

Soon the water is at your throat. Now the cool of the water has replaced the warmth of the summer day. A few more steps and you are under. But you can breathe. There is no fear within you as you walk forward and leave behind the steps of the rampart and eventually feel your feet sink into the mud. You can see the waters flowing all around you, and you are able to see what the river brought with it over the centuries. You see barges of grapes from upstream, heading south where they will be churned into wine. You see grain from northern Europe, passing through Hungary, headed for parts south, for larger ships awaiting cargo in the Black Sea.