for my two father’s on Father’s Day. May they sit at the heavenly kitchen table with my mother and later play some cards with Uncle Joe & Aunt Mary. Miss you all.
both opposite
in manner
yet the same
in devotion
to that woman
who dominated
all our lives
the lesson learned
there’s more than one way
to love
Implore
cry out
scream
until
your
howl
begins
to make
itself
heard
translated by Adam J. Sorkin & Livin Bleoca
A man’s brain
intact at the sidewalk’s edge
at Liberty Square
There with its blood
and a loaf of bread
Between a few candles
Like an altar decomposing
I’m writing about it here and now,
so later I can’t say
I never saw it.
translated by Adam J. Sorkin & Ioana Ieronim
Tell me, if I caught you one day
and kissed you on the sole of your foot,
you’d limp a bit afterwards, wouldn’t you,
for fear you might crush my kiss?
translated by Adam J. Sorkin & Anca Peiu
The music made every atom ring . . .
Longing for you, and for another world,
Longing . . .
A nameless misery
Hung
Over man . . .
All pondered their lives,
Their vanishing.
The music sentimentalized
Exhaustingly,—
Longing for you, and for another world,
Longing . . .
The music made every atom ring.
translated by Peter Jay
no sound
quite so forlorn
as a phone
not ringing
at 4 o’clock
in the morning
Knowing what
knowing is,
think less
of your life as labor.
Pain’s increase,
thought’s random torture,
grow with intent.
Simply live.
The sky’s like a pewter
of curiously dulled blue,
and “My heart’s in the highlands . . .,”
feels the day beginning again.
And whatever, whatever, says it
again, and stays here, stays
here with its old hands,
holds on with its stiff, old fingers,
can come too, like they say,
can come with me into this patient weather,
and won’t be left alone, no, never alone ever
again,
in whatever time’s left for us here.
When I was a kid, I
thought like a kid —
I was a kid,
you dig it. But
a hundred and fifty years later,
that’s a whole long time to
wait for the train.
But since water still flows, though we cut it with our swords,
And sorrows return, though we drown them with wine,
Since the world can in no way answer our craving,
I will loosen my hair tomorrow and take to a fishing-boat.
translated by Witter Bynner & Kiang Kang-hu
Being Present for the Moment
Website storys
Illustration, Concept Art & Comics/Manga
Singer, Songwriter and Author from Kyoto, Japan.
Singer, Songwriter and Author from Kyoto, Japan.
An online activist from Bosnia and Herzegovina, based in Sarajevo, standing on the right side of the history - for free Palestine.
A place where I post unscripted, unedited, soulless rants of a insomniac madman
Dennis Mantin is a Toronto-based writer, artist, and filmmaker.
Finding Inspiration
Off the wall, under the freeway, over the rainbow, nothin' but net.
Erm, what am I doing with my life?
Artist by choice, photographer by default, poet by accident.
At Least Trying Too
A Journey of Spiritual Significance
Life in islamic point of view
Through the view point of camera...
L'essenziale è invisibile e agli occhi e al cuore. Beccarlo è pura questione di culo
In Kate's World
Leonard Durso 