The river or the island
The island or the Camelot
The Shalott or Sir Lancelot
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Go and ask a credulous heart
'Do you believe in shapes? '
'Is a distant bough swaying in a tempest
sound breathless stake breathing the fire of a spell/
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within a need of a precise chemical supplier
to forfeit the substance of each beating heart
there a sky self spelled playing an astrologist role
drawn in its fate hopelessly hopping from one astro sign to another
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…that is the way a rainy day opens.
Like a dropp of rain at the edge of a split atom anticipating the parameter of light-that is the way a rainy day opens. The light on the wind, the step on the water, a water desert dropp and a voice at the bottom of the drizzle, the silence of the boughs rising into the sky to be a cloudy treetop. An axiom of the word within a dropp unuttered by words strengthened for creation. Stripped free from everything, liberated from the word itself and its understanding, the muteness of a dry soul burying the axes of war under an oak tree. To think the water desert into a vacant space.
Календар Дан 23.
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ja nisam gost ovom tihom času
kad kiša za mene gorku kapju sprema
ne priznajem pad ni kad postoji zagrljaj
što će me odnijeti rijekama do ušća
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svitanje vjenčava bat sanjanih koraka
sa tminom što dobuje tiho kraj uha
ono stapa svjetlost i vrelinu mraka
i šapat tad postaje naušnica sluha
...