Marjan Strojan Poems

If you look at it from above,
it stoops.
If you see it from close by,
it grows.
...

He sat on a timber of a young spruce cut down
on a Sunday afternoon: the woods still blue
and trails dug up by wheel-tracks all around
too wet for anybody to pass through.
...

The bite of morning chill like a blind flash,
the first thrust of his weight connects the brain
with water. A power, flat and deep, unknown
that grips the line and straightens the long arch.
...

All things that grow indelible in the grass -
cicada's eyes, the sound of herbs,
I'd gather up to hold before my eyes
and press them to my lids like a cold compress.
...

Zinnias in bloom; a train
moving on, departing: maids'
work on the balcony.
An electric pole - a hedgehog
...

Think of it -
from now on our days
(one after another) will run on
eventfully. All of a sudden
...

into chapters or classified according to their
alphabetical order, had found themselves
locked behind doors of inscrutable hallways,
the keys flung as liberally away as if they
...

By Admiral Nelson and Lady Hamilton,
on their return from Haydn's Mass
No. 11 in D minor at Eisenstadt in the year 1800.
...

The following must be said on the subject. Greek
bridges - as well as Sumerian temples and the water-
clocks of Egypt - were, in comparison, constructed
to accord with entirely different principles of thought.
...

As I was prying around the brook last evening
and look for God-knows-what around the shack,
I heard from the woods a cry, like someone weeping
...