Biography of Eli Spivakovsky
I'm a friendly and free-thinking lass inspired by creativity in all its forms. Artists that I find enchanting right now are Andrei Tarkovsky, Jorge Luis Borges, Gauguin, Truffaut, Sonic Youth, Darren Aronofsky, Xu Bing, Peter Hoeg, Robert Bresson, Magic Dirt, My Bloody Valentine, Funkadelic/Parliament, Shostakovich, Albert Lamorisse, Palle Mikkelborg, Trilok Gurtu, Tom Waits, Charlie Chaplin, (the soulful) and Shlomo Carlbach... Also fascinated by horticulture (and ikebana) , social justice, film theory, mysticism, symbology, not-for-profit orgs, tsumami kanzashi, Kanja and Hebrew scripts and language in general, and really enjoy the 'Australian Centre for Moving Images'... I also find inspiration through my Grandfather and Great Uncle: Tossy and Jascha Spivakovsky...I sing, write songs, play guitar and drums, ... My poetry is characterised by its accessiblity and strong imagery.
Eli Spivakovsky Poems
Shifting Boats Crumble
Shifting boats crumble Ocean beds Part of my mind goes blank like the new day.
The panacea of our love delineated at the hour of its rising the sparks in our eyes turned to waterdrops and we swam to each other.
My Andalusian Spanish Horse Boy That Europe wants cast from places too wet and damp that actual humans can't inhabit
Child prodigy, performed for royalty at the beginning of the century 1903 Considered the wunderkind
Corps Of Wet Doves
In the sun, the down on birds is luminous, In the daisyfields, parachutes capture the glow of summer like papillion nets breathing oxygen and light. Falling to earth, resuscitated by a strong breeze, they flutter in their whitest silk like
Dark Black Cherry Blossom
Have you seen the sparkle of the pavement light shining on the dark black cherry blossom branches as it rains at nighttime?
Your Pacific urges, crack through old technology marine-drenched cables and the international telephonic corridors
What If A Hummingbird Could Emerge From ...
What if a hummingbird could emerge from a cocoon fully formed and clingling to a vanilla plant
Corps Of Wet Doves
In the sun, the down on birds is luminous,
In the daisyfields, parachutes capture the glow of summer like papillion nets breathing oxygen and light.
Falling to earth, resuscitated by a strong breeze,
they flutter in their whitest silk like
an over-bloomed lily and call for more breeze
later still like
a late-blooming frangipani.
They are bridal canopies becoming sacronsanct