Miroslava Odalovic Poems

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61.
Calender Day 1

It's a silent night and half a truth. The edges of thought lightly touched by the Moon. It's a thick darkness I feed with the light of the letters, an aureole of the written among the walls the whispers slipping between the words and the body prostrated before the soul. From my altar like window the bidrs are flying up towards the arches upwards into an all held within manner built beneath the limits of the human craving.
...and half a dream. In another one there's an eye sighting into the gap and each step is light when there is no bottom. The space is answered in time and the time is wondered at in space about the meaning of standing and duration. The black sky spells out the stars the signs of its counting and I am but one of them. Sometimes the reflection answered in the surface of the water by the depth in which my own countenance is reflected and the edges of my shadow. Sometimes it's nothing as an always a good place to start a journey.
...and half a touch. It moves with its fingers the quiver of an early storm that will grow into slapping the boughs, the first dropp of rain will flood the streets now trodden by a silent night.
...and half a smile. Built within a tear and all made of hope. That smiles the night.
...

62.
If I Could See Through The Rains

To find a thunder heart that beats
My veins away away apart
Oh yes it would be so easy to die
Too easy to die to fall
...

63.
Farce

g g for a horse
no regrets no remorse

broken toy cars
...

64.
Writing

65.
If I'M A Letter You Never Really Read

do let me lie on a broken stair
I'll sound no victory and no defeat
I'll fold no sides to a memo cry
I'll name no address bear no stamp no post
...

66.
I (Under) Stood There

I stood there
understood there
a moment
of writing butterflies
...

67.
Calender Day 79/Kalendar Dan 79

A heretic moving through the linear system of the keyboards-that's who I am with the first touch of keys. The intruder of silence, the devotee of a disappearing sound. The acrobat on x/y axes, the loneliness of the rhythm aflame in the only mathematics that makes sense. I am swaying you - silence, I'm smashing you against the window panes of eyes, my hammers strike into hopelessness- how-how shall I play myself into infinity on the limited number of keys. The heretic shifting through the aureoles of sounds, the pearls of accords I scatter before my feet so that I could start walking. I am not playing-no- I am dipping my fingers into the endless and the traces of its sound I am splashing across the universe and spreading it into a smile.
The Pianist

Јеретик који пролази кроз линеарни систем клавијатура-то сам ја у првом додиру са диркама. Уљез тишине, поклоник звука који нестаје. акробата на икс ипсилон осама узаврелог ритма једине смислене математике. Љуљам те -тишино, разбијам о окна очију, ударају чекићи у безнађе како ћу - како на опсегу клавијатуре одсвирати себе у бескрај. Јеретик који пролази кроз ореоле тона, перле акорда проспипам пред сопствене ноге нњ бих ли тако коначно проходао. Ја не свирам, ја прсте умачем у оно бескрајно и трагове његове по свемиру размазујем и у осмјех развлачим.
...

68.
Ginc Mindel Ris Virm

resting on a deceptive core
volcano spinning more and more
a cooled down surface of fire spoken lips
speaks of many an apocalypse
...

69.
Bread And Games

They told me I should sing
But I didn't know what to sing
So I asked
What do you want me to sing
...

70.
The Moment

The moment I've been found
is the moment I've been lost
fragmental self frozen
no longer me
...

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