Eli Spivakovsky Poems
|2.||Corps Of Wet Doves||6/10/2013|
|3.||Lushenko The World's Greatest Ice-Skater||10/20/2015|
|4.||Dry Ice Sublimation||6/30/2016|
|9.||Jeremie - A Jerusalem Love Story||8/6/2016|
|10.||The Colour Mafia||8/31/2016|
|11.||You Can't Drown In Snow||9/9/2016|
|12.||Proof Of God, Baby||10/27/2016|
|13.||Shifting Boats Crumble||11/1/2016|
|16.||Dark Black Cherry Blossom||11/1/2016|
|17.||The Astronaut's Dream||11/1/2016|
|18.||Asian Android In Digital Snow||11/1/2016|
|19.||7th Floor Angels||11/1/2016|
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
when finally touching the earth as its witnesses,
they are like bridal dresses caught in the branches of trees.
It's possible that they have become over-qualified
Dry Ice Sublimation
Have you ever seen dry ice sublimation in close-up?
The little crystals seem to prick their ears up, they stand on end.
It's as if they can hear someone calling to them from very far away.
Then those little crystals start sticking out their feathered hands.
'Touch me, ' they seem to say,
'Before I disappear.'
And they turn into vapour very quickly,