2005 - 2007
So now, I think, only the plains and mountains,
the rivers and the forests know the kind
of life I lead, the one concealed from all.
Petrarch
City-mountainside.
Windows. Beneath my sunlit
forehead: blinded eyes.
What I would like and
what there is: the difference
is a state of mind.
Pigeons fighting for
the food they can never share —
equillibrium.
Beech grove with hornbeams.
Patches of snow underneath,
budding twigs high up.
Long awaited rain.
The iron tears of churchbells
falling on the ground.
dream: the boy’s closed eyes
acorns planted in the sky
– flower unicorn
Daddy, Daddy – the
happy face of my daughter –
I can walk backwards!
Rain. Ocean
roars in pelting drops.
Upper waters.
Betrayal-anger.
Simultaneous orgasm
never to be shared?
coffee milk and wine
gipsy spring upon us
blood mixes with sperm
Pesach-moisture: land
rejuvenated, the dead
resuscitated.
living mental life —
pale-faced mornings follow nights
of masturbation
The dangling halo
of poverty above your
head: your art’s glory.
The man whose eyes were
filled with death on the river
Danube’s lap gave birth.
Fragrance of lilacs
in a manager’s office.
Beautiful morning.
The day begins with
floods: oil-poisoned waters,
headstrong motorists.
Chirping birds above
Gul Baba’s grave, rejoicing
in the mid-day sun.
City-park flower
scent, wet leaves, shivering ground.
So ephemeral.
underground below
the pipe-system waiting for
instant redemption
Wild-flowers at large.
Summer heat pouring on my
head, restless mountain.
Money-sick mankind!
Flowers wither in our homes,
when we need to be.
The Budapest tram.
Ezra Pound sitting among
faces in a row.
Concrete-hard surface.
Walking machines, talking heads.
Melancholy wine.
Mist in the garden.
Thoughts afloat meditation
– invisible buds
Getting out of town.
Railway station – runway, I
lift off from platform.
Ferryboat crossing
at Visegrád–Nagymaros.
Which side are you on?
for Karl
Bach in the Wawel:
a visible mountain of
invisible gold.
Through buffer country:
people looking inward and
so are the buildings.
Crowded alleyways.
Above the noise of tourists:
Mozart concerto.
I heard an echo
reverberate upon the
surface of the lake.
Completely walled in,
surrounded by mountains:
my terrible dreams.
A night of silence.
The tower looking askance.
Rain washes your face.
Towers on the top
of gentle Etruscan hills
rolling into dream.
Radars beneath blue
dream of sky and tiny clouds.
Belltowers erect.
Sun goes down on me
reading Petrarch in bookshop.
Walk out: crazy street.
Industrial rain
keeps falling on laurel leaves.
Poet’s house locked up.
San Marco’s filled with
tourists instead of pigeons
— waiting to be fed.
from circle to square
alternative redemptions
triangle doubles
The fanatic hand
of Mucius Scaevola —
Etruria burned.
Aaron Sisson’s flute
the hyphen between birth, death.
If only he lived!
Below and above,
forlorn traffic of people.
Seagulls on the shore.
True woman, dog-men.
Her cat-eyes pierce the night of
Man’s unworthy howl.
after Milan Kundera
Absolute number,
ego, self-doubt vanishing.
Love is relative.
I’m under judgement,
poems get no acquittal.
Death mechanical.
My teenage years drowned,
my poems travelled unbound,
while at home I died.
Pure being-event.
The diamond: 2 pyramids:
above, under ground.
after Lucien Stryk
Dust of the world —
what worse could wipe away
morning dew-drops?
doped by her visions
of somebody else’s sins
you can bear the pain
Lost revolutions’
beauty withdrawn into the
prelude without fugue.
peripatetic
moments grinding — in the tree
immortality
Soulsearching for those
who went to the War – and why
chosen, why alone?
Kurt Schwitters i. m.
Children laugh at the
city unredeemable;
treehuggers embrace.
Enkidu died to
live in the sanctuary-
heart of Gilgamesh.
After Philip Vellacott
Some griefs time will send,
some grow from the root of wrong.
Redemption within.
Dream: Chtonic sign of
Persephone. Demeter
roaming over ground.
Souls in bodies dwell.
The exile lives in a house.
Death arrives tonight.