a candlestick actually two

piano notes a small support harp

a bowl with wax staves

books

a bicycle from sixties

it does not fall

two doves on the same street

they know each other since they were little

seventeen hour distance
your eyes coiled in my heart five flowers daily

i.e. love

a disaster worse than battered fingers with writing


the first letter from david
turned off light

fatigue streaming on walls

I cut up the address from my memory

david hiller – elizabeth str. Parramata

N.S.W 2151 sydney – australia


the room swallowed by darkness

my hoarse voice although I do not smoke

words scribbled hastily
je vous aime
will you marry me

I'll be there on september the 15th wait for me

in other words, love


after all those confessions

I still do not know who you are

do not joke about coming to me

everything is disorder here you will feel

as if drawn in atom motion


haste makes me go aimlessly but that's how I am
I do not fear life

it wants me the same way I want my king in chess

what is defence good for

namely love without future obligations

roads and dust

departures detachments new walls
other continent

six hours of violent sleep




days are similar my voice too

is identical to another

I am not me anyway I am not the way you expect me to be


what we still do not know about each other

i.e. love

the way you lower your eyelids when you blink

how I only move one cheek when I smile ironically
how you toss away your long hair when you write to me

how I shudder when I get a message from you

i.e. love

your naïveté
my innocence


how you delete your lines when I laugh too boldly on mike
a day becomes as long as thirty days a month is worth an year
together
the ample breath before sleep
the rolling over to one side and back to the other
until you fall asleep with my image in your arms

translation: luminita suse