*** The sky over the forest of Monceau Is swelling, The flying boats of the chestnut leaves Are landing Over the salt-and-pepper waves - Your stormy hair, The smokey valley…
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2025
*** The gentility of classical ballet: Rows of grapevines - ballerinas en pointe, In seductive emerald tutus, Wearing the black pearl sautoirs. Vendemmia - Swan Lake at its best, Dresses…
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*** The cupolas of churches, The cupolas of cows, The close-ups of silence, The close-ups of shrubs. The casual of coal, The casual of corn, In ‘Petit Granit’ are graveyards,…
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*** There is a mist In Hibiscus, The mist is blue - Oiseau Bleu! There is a kiss On a bell dress Written with water, There is home. There is…
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*** A pink dining table Whose pinkness perfumes your mind, Dalias flame gently in the expressionist eye of an artist, Their bodies glue all your attention (with almost no other…
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For 21.06.2025 When you walk through an abandoned meadow In the early morning in summertime, You may be lucky to encounter blue lava-like flow Of radiant wild chicories. Almost as…
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*** As the hot buckwheat-and-black-rye loaf Runs the gauntlet from forno to table, The bakerqueen is translating the music of dough To the movement of floating grain flavour. All of…
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*** In the isn’tness of her Persian blue eyes - central stage on her olive face, Something in me that responds To the primitive rhythm of an eyelid. The rest…
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2024
23/12/2024 *** Only they, who truly listen, Can be obedient. “Ob” is “thoroughly”, “Audire” is “hear”. To hear thoroughly - Only the ear that seeks the song, Perceives it. End…
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There were grey wharves made of rotten logs, From where we, children, dove into the lake, There were the drowned pontoons on which we danced, gazing into the ochre waters.…
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Poetry *** To describe how you believe is difficult: When I hear church bells on Sunday morning in Italy, I want to stand up, Look at the wrinkles, landscapes, mimics…
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*** A still sky after hours of storm: You see the trees standing silent As there is no wind anymore. Slowly, as if invisible Van Gogh, Rublev, or Shostakovich, Crusading…
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*** Painting icons in the postmodern kitchen, Under the scrutiny of stoves and vegetables, At the cooking crossroad of air and fire, water and earth, A pilgrimage through the memory…
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*** I can’t remember a more arctic spring, I conclude work and sit alone in the tower, With blinds up, with eyes down, Trying to attract summer. This is one…
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Poetry *** The silence of the violet field Is open to the sky and trusting heart - The power of an amalgam of blue and red, An ancient obedience of…
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To when you and me felt to be To 21 March 2021 *** When the northern hemisphere Begins to tilt towards the sun, When day and night are the same…
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*** Where does she begin and end? She descends from above the clouds, Seeps from the hidden glacier, Born near the sky’s surface, In the snow-capped triangle - My eye…
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*** Titled ‘Branches’. It makes you look and look some more. A jungle of signs, A line path of cranes over the sky sucks my eye, In the twists of the trees, in the stormy…
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2023
*** My love for the countryside in the fall, The smell of the soil, Van Gogh of sea-buckthorns, Rodin of the sky, The air “of thoughts”, Unhurried walks towards the…
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*** I have attended the concert of your lips, I am sure I know of no agony comparable To sensing of this opera. The “bogatyrs” they are, Are chivalrous, Are…
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*** I awaited a word from the water. It came not. Well, then what? I searched for a thought and asked fish; They knew no more than me. Well, then…
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*** November day is Azo Orange, If you observe it Leaning on the windowsill Where ripe mandarins lie. A girl is passing to the skating ring - A clementine, So gorgeous…
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Marching from sea to sea One with the body of a Roman, With the mind of a Greek, With the soul of the Orient, Through always the same labyrinth of…
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*** You are my hometown of forgetfulness, of healing, Made for ЛЮБОВЬ , I woke to find you swathed in la nebbia, ТЫ НЕБО ! The sense of gravity pops…
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*** Woken up by the white the white, By impatience of heart to melt, The sky was empty this night, Without the stars has been left. The sky didn’t sleep…
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*** It was an attic room, Too small For my unableness To keep emotion in control. It was under the attic dome, Where we felt the joys Of shared insomnia.…
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2022
*** Can you stop the rose from withering, Sun from setting, Hands from getting unpassionate? All that remains is memories And the tyranny of ‘what-ifs’ - God, bless them! On…
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*** Cautious is the sound, The sound of the still mountains. As if the icebergs rooted to the lake, They moan to the skies for centuries. But nothing exotic about…
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*** The taste of persimmon, which is not heard, Which is not seen, but reimagined by the tongue - The spicy soul swirls, pushing autumnal spleen away From the beholder’s…
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*** Electric light illuminates The honey skin of leaves, In slight attacks of fever The shadow of the moon Stands still In Scorpio. Two fine eyes - the craters Are…
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*** From the Portrait Hall of memory- I reach the Amber Room - Venezia - Beige and automnal In October Of twenty twenty two. The FON-DA-MEN-TA FE-DO-ROvskiy Or the Winter…
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*** Our journey around the world And towards each other Is a non-stop sentence, Spontaneous and indifferent to punctuation, Lots of love, lots of layers, Your everyday gestures are always…
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*** I was a wandering camel Braying at the sun, I felt I was walking On hot coals, I kept my pain and sadness Secret (Anyway, there was no-one around!)…
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*** Feelings that I want to be honest about, Feelings that you can get tangled up, Feelings that become real Once they have been pronounced, Feelings that lie so helplessly…
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*** One stroke- A sure stride of melody Emerges from the hotchpotch of sounds, The painting is painting itself, The painting re-reads the letters You have sent and you’ve received,…
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*** The brushwork of the Flemish fog, Sfumato, soft, The hovering of thought In depthlessness, The stillness of a voice Inside one’s head, Unwillingness of images To move, A feeling…
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*** Flying around the world For millions of years, She appeared resting On the finely curved lip Of a limestone, When I saw her I thought of Nabokov! In the…
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*** All the beauty, All the poetry meaning of stars Is that they are infinitely far From Earth, Remain a secret to us. They are lovingly cultivated For the sheer…
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*** I had only my ear to guide me, Your voice fingerprints in the air, I remember the evening I heard it In the emptiness of a museum. Your voice…
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*** At night, when people don’t part, In the beige house on the blue lake Surrounded by a number of rocky mountains, Between terra firma and watery nothingness, Not a living soul…
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*** Your shadow climbs the mountain, And the wind sighs between your arms, Long corridors of arched shoulders Through which I eye the spire of a church, I sense the…
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*** I have to see you Before I can imagine, Imagine the beginning When I learned to see, To see you sitting On the floor in paints, In paints you…
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*** You taught me how to heat the stove, Admire fire, walk the mountains, Petrarca’s songs, To recognise the herbs, That even in the midst of human hell There is…
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*** The room we stand in now Is full of desire, Of the desire in these Oversized almond eyes, Of the desire that leaves Watermarks of Nature - The great…
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*** Who is my translator In this foreign world? Will I ever cross The thermal baths Of Bagno Vignoni With a burning candle Consecrated To love on Earth? Is it…
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*** I became immune To rains, Old photographs, Pine needles Under my feet - all fleeting contents, To perpetual good-byes to objects and people, The species of strawberry I buy…
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*** It was winter. I had lunch with my dog at the lake town, On the shopping street full of movement - Where people were sort of “homeless”. I was…
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*** Besides the poems, What do I like to do? Hmmm... Hunting! Hunting your eyes, of course, To ward off homesickness. They are my horse-drawn vehicles On rutted and foggy…
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*** Black rainstorm - warning signal, alarm bells about our changing climate, rain as a sign of the apocalypse, exceptional cold over my Siberia, where average temperatures reached as low…
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*** In the emptiness of the lemon gardens, The afternoon sunshine uncages a smile. Not far behind, There is snow and the Volga iced, Every couple of meters you see…
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*** We invent scenes and characters That don’t exist, We replay history with alternative outcomes, We envision social and love utopias, We revel in imagination and arts, And we muse…
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2021
*** It paves roads where previously there were none. It attracts people to the inner shores, Mortals who would otherwise be at dinners: Restaurant waiters, joggers, risk-seekers. The bluish mist…
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*** The eyes, which promised magic, Fleetingly become alive Projected on the facades of presepi, The aprons Of Italian wives. The eyes, which harboured fealty, Jump on the snow sledge…
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*** We invent scenes and characters That don’t exist, We replay history with alternative outcomes, We envision social and love utopias, We revel in imagination and arts, And we muse…
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*** Before the night falls, A process above thought - I see the ballerina’s leg move, Ideas don't occur In abstract form, They come in bodies. The moment when the…
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*** Snow is a blank blanket, A clean canvas, Obscuring what lies beneath it, Snow is a poem of the air. Snow was my first material For sculpture From early…
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*** Something rather private, For reasons that are mysterious, Nothing but small waves In the sea of speeches. Nature as witness of freedom, And nature as verification of failure, Will…
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*** With bright petals and bitter-sweet scents, you body lures insects (and scorpios) to your pollen-filled centers. Over millions of years, you evolved into a transparent flowering plant producing blooms…
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*** From the minute the curtain is down To the first sunrise plié, I’m captivated as you, alone, Dream with numerous pas de deux. La Serenissma all'antica, My unacting protagonist,…
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*** Before you began to exist in me As a face, as a form, as a will, You were a word, Which from the depths of my dreams Gave its…
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*** The white of innocence, Of canals for eternity, The white of swans, Of swearing fidelity, The white of love to you, My Birdperson, The white of sea foam Is…
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*** Again, I have my midnight musings, Can’t sleep, I’m circulating, darling - The gift of having you, intensely For only seven months… l’m learning To navigate the pain Together…
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*** She paints a garden, In which she doesn’t depict rose bushes, But the mountains behind it, Bird sounds and windowless attics. She paints with so much words The tongue…
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*** This absence reappears. The absence that makes the rest exist. Your traces are present, In order to keep The windows open, and me - Gruff and still. Something has…
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*** I want to you as I wanted the sea, As I wanted the beauty of Saint Petersburg, As I wanted thoughtlessly At least one rose petal In my hand,…
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*** A triangle of three beings, Yesterday night I saw it. I thought to myself: “Aiuto!” No words and no visions - new colour! Time shifted my answers, Answers we…
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*** To love when you don’t even know that you love. To love when autumn stars stop falling And I stand and watch and I know That I’ll never catch…
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*** when I'm not there, it warms you and comforts you - a big red armchair. when you aren’t here, I wait to see you and look forever. my love…
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*** You were the whisper - not a mouth, My slice of brown bread in Rome, A piece of unexamined something, Embracing me inside my word storm… You were a…
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*** “Love itself is childhood”, As Tsvetaeva wrote. Between you and me There is no comma, No cup of tea, no ‘sogno’, Only a beat of heaven. To tell the…
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*** I see your image always on the foreground Of my morning walks, my attic sunsets, All my verses are as much for you As for the snow and seas.…
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*** We began at the real beginning, With love. We discovered it covered completely By vast olive groves, Among the Maniots, Inhabitants of Mani Peninsula, They lived in house-towers To…
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*** Her hair bobbed And a smile on her heart-shaped face, Muscles welded into Ilissan hocus-pocus, Has no sandals nor school - Only a charcoal, A half- clothed Greek, A…
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*** Railroad stations, Outdoor pedestrian streets, Pubs - We used to chance encounters, No more now. Touching online - 'Betweenness' as choice, Motionless movements all day , Talking to screened…
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*** Birds never look down, Their boat-shaped mouths Let the vowels out, Absent from all the photographs I’ve done, Were they even in the sky? I lower my eyes: Have…
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*** When you are sitting late on the balcony, In a thin white shirt, With the lamp shade hitting you from the window, You are transparent. When you are looking…
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*** Happiness Is dozens of happinesses. A new planet. Clouds in full sail. The sulphur smell Of matches. Availability. To try again. An open door. The joy of hearing. Wearing…
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*** The beginning suggests something, The suggestion becomes a silhouette, A silhouette, caught on canvas, By hand is made real. A line starts from fingers, Spends their energy, then, the…
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*** The morning of love Is precisely what elevates us Above ourselves, The height where we do not yet realise That we are soaring, Above dispassionate fogs, Behind which a…
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*** When Love is revealed Not only in the unity of our two hearts, But also in their diversity, In their mutual disclosure, I seek to preserve the otherness of…
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*** A gaze into the blue nature - Into the infinite, While protective figures of the high cliffs Engage in various modes of seeing. Fenestrated walls through which one looks…
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*** Like lying in salt water – All I needed to do was breathe: Bach would keep thoughts afloat In the rays of sun gleam. Through the coloured cathedral Stained…
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*** They zip across the sky, Fiery dots leaving a glowing trail Behind As kiss traces burn the surface Of my skin. A falling star Is larger than the Earth,…
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** Among emerald crowns of pines and birches stands a man. At his hand - thick forests, marches, Unconventionally huge clouds, Injured roads of Lithuanian suburbs, Grandmothers selling tomatoes near…
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*** A flying flower, The amber fire, The wings of south, The soul sparkling. I whisper “grazie”, “asante”, “spasibo”, “obrigado“, “love you”… My papillon, All saints choir, Teatro alla Scala,…
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*** The lure of being lost In the shadows of a forest - Wandering among magnolias As though in “The Last Supper” With standing dinner candles. Trees never lose their…
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*** Your heart is the lightning capital of the country In which your soul rests, Whenever you hear a thunder inside yourself, Your voice is ready to play. It might…
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*** I cannot tell The taste of childhood summers. Caressing the ripe fruit Straight on the tree, The intense sweetness Left on the tongue To be saved up for Novembers,…
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*** Two 5-year olds Seen from the back, Throwing sand fervidly Into the window glass. Two girls Choose sand grains to say Something I can’t comprehend. They wear yellow pareos,…
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*** Poetry begot the meeting, The meeting begot sound, Sound begot trust, Trust begot tandem, Tandem begot love. Love begot letters, Letters begot hope, Hope begot meaning, Meaning begot form.…
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*** Wanting, finally, to see the stronger sun, What a bizarre thing a touch is, Of someone’s lips or of a brush! To loosen up you must perform a bunch…
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*** When the tide came in, You started swimming, But not like I had seen Before - More underwater Than over, Still your eyes wide open, A tiny dolphin you…
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*** Tongue-tied in your presence, All I could mutter was “My Darling…”. What you exhaled was “Si, yes, certo”. One word, with some ornamentation. “Just trust me", And I did…
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*** I pray because the distance is too much, I know, yes, да, no distance is too far, But still I pray because I learn, Because I’m deeply heard, Before…
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*** I tried to forget about the sea, first. Then, all changed. I bought the tower on the beach. I walked down to the waves, And it somehow began: Far…
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*** I simply let the pen fall, I never memorise how long it lasted, Kilometres and watts of slow Waltz, Out of which the sun rises. Each morning you escape…
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*** It happened again and again; Up the old Roman staircase, My breath was cowering, Footsteps in front, The spiral, The fleurs-de-lis, The 8th of September, My premier ‘Buona sera’!…
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*** Rézene, fenhel, finocchio - A prominent green perfume, A Corinthian-style body - Are temples only for worship? The stillness can now be broken By crackling of firewood only, You…
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*** To me there is nothing as beautiful As the wing of your shoulder, You take off quickly, Moving gently from flower to flower, A shimmering flash of blue wings…
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*** Whenever I have no way to go, You are my road. I watch you without batting an eyelid. Sometimes a living being can teach you more Than mountains. The…
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*** It was the safety of a hand, Magic where we didn’t say much, You had no lipstick on, Your hair was undone. The shadows on the outside Had green…
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*** There is no oil, No varnish, No easel, No trace of linear perspective. There is no sketching, No sponges, No preparation. There is no, no, no - There is…
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*** May this distance lead you to yourself, I cross the tram rails to reach the beach, Wary of paper airplanes on my way, When you look up, how far…
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*** The paints began to tremble, A mountain loomed from the canvas, With flames burning the white linen, Dragonflies - pink and amber - - covered the shores of the…
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To my grandma, Iskra (a sparkle), who taught me to shine brightly, to take every day as the first one. And a buona nascita to my new sparkle - dear…
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This is a tale of two in a museum. This is a tale of a museum full of secrets. This is a tale of secrets between two lands. One -…
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*** You know what I miss? You Painting, When you take out The inner sounds, Major and minor, When your fingers Come weightless, As feathers or as Stravinsky’s, When you…
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In the end, there is always a lake. This time surrounded by curves of mountains, Their elegance embody an image of your sunlit dark-hair - Such are the noons here,…
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*** Here is a kiss, So long and so shivering, With a taste of a dewdrop, Too fragile, too tender. An atom of that dizzying intensity, I fold it with…
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*** Going from top to bottom Or feeling the world from left to right: Flatlands are never purely horizontal, Mountains often give up Their vertical nature, When seen from above……
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*** Мама - это мир цветовой гаммы залитого молитвой моря, тусклые полутона снов из детства, глубокое голубое. Мама - это знание, что ты нужен, это запах книжек на полке, это…
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*** Where does the climb end? I'm standing strong and bold on the battlefront: From the deck of a blue hill Adorned with saffron, orange, and green, I squint at…
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*** The last boundary between land and sea - The Lighthouse - Nieuwpoort. Where the rhythm of North waves is a soundtrack to stargazing, where the night sky remains the…
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The silence of every sound, Illogically placed furniture, We don’t see our faces from the outside, Stopping dead before rosebushes. Asthmatic if denied kisses, A pair of fixed wings When…
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*** Your road to my hand begins With what seems to be rice paper - A rolled dream or a cigarette. We walk through the castle gates, To enter the…
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*** The soft amber glow of that film moment When your sleep dissipates Into the smoldering whispers of sun dawn. The feeling of a time and place Where the light…
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*** I tried to find a simple scene to begin with - To display an entire life in one candle shot, From the beginning to the end, Without any screen…
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*** The green brings me back to my childhood. The smell of cut grass in June Meant the 'white nights season', When my father would run behind me, While I’m…
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*** A turning point in a drama, A sudden star, A fragrant violet, A flower chaos in my mind, A dancer in a lotus dress As though from the Degas’s…
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*** Underneath the façade of reason Lies beauty. It felt as if you had been made For eyes of mine Alone. I whispered your foreign name And let the bold…
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*** I can happily watch you forever, The sculpture of all sculptures, No gallery has anything similar, Nothing like it in the art world. There is a truth in you,…
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*** I stay on very late, To see you starlit, My fragile cliff road, My scherzo fantastique, My bitten fingernails, My valley verte, My cherry tree, My ‘yes’ and ‘shall…
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*** I listen to your voice message And think again how beautiful you are, Its candle tempo Melts better than the snow, Rachmaninov’s concertos, Black caviar… The feeling of your…
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*** Picasso's hair was square, Your hair is air, They know what 'to fly' means, They move with the slowness of sleep. They are zeppelins drawn By Da Vinci's hand.…
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*** Can't change a light bulb Without burning the fingers, Can’t fall in love Without burning the nostrils - I fall in love with cherry blossoms, I fall in love…
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*** I rarely begin on paper, Paper, paper, paper… Your sunlit face, A distant church bell, My verse gets born Between your hands, Talking or walking me coffee, Coffee, coffee,…
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*** Я хочу выучить тебя наизусть, как стих, я хочу перелистывать тебя сквозь, как сон, я хочу в звезды с тобой вдвоем, я молчу тебя всей душой. Я хочу объяснить…
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*** Hemingway would not refuse From coffee in the sun, The patio and you, You - in a chessboard shirt, Smiling at him (All though, you did to me!), While…
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*** If those poetrees could speak, What would they say to you and me? That time is sweet? That time is fast? That time is something to forget To feel…
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*** Un tempo sull'acqua con barca, The cloak of fog in the sunshower, Lake Garda, Petrarca, Arco, Le mani di piano - staccato - In charcoal they draw my profile,…
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*** At the cathedral of sun rays, In the arabesque of forgetfulness, Solemn and silent, I saw no-one, caught nothing, But felt embraced, Sitting inside the flames On Sint Andre’s…
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*** I wonder How many poems it would take me to read to you before you fall asleep? With a scarf in my hands I enter this spring, pretending I…
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*** Imagine an island. An island you can only imagine. Its walls were thin, Strengthened with rocks They’d bring from the sea. Rocks and bits of shell and coral and…
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*** The key word in the sonata Is the final estàtico. The day’s summit comes After ‘good morning’ puzzles - Crescent-shaped hopes Looking like croissants, Afternoon doubts piled as ‘drafts’,…
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*** Well, it all began with fragments of a dressing gown you wore, I never saw you in a bathing robe, But in a bathing robe you were, Shining on…
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*** Un samedi après-midi, Some sit, some sleep, Some are in full bloom, Others droop and wilt, The joy and triste Don’t sunder, They co-exist This perfect afternoon Of unresolved…
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*** How, and where, should my eye start? With the first sand grain I step? With the first sea wave I touch? Or let the eye dance around the seaside…
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*** At dusk, in the dress of dust, The day Blends with the magic of melting sun, A trivial Thursday becomes A springboard for love, Succumbs to astonishing ashes. I…
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*** I went for a walk-in-the-snow and thought about Marcel: His madeleine, of course, and the tea smell, His cork-lined bedroom, My Proust - the master of social distancing! Mademoiselles…
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*** There was no trace of humans Over the snowed-up beach, I thought of you, as I do often, And followed you inside this chiaroscuro noon. I screwed one eye…
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*** Crescent-shaped bread Can’t be cut open, Made into a sandwich, Be spread on, Nor eaten at any other time But morning, When still it’s warm And dangerously buttery, When…
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*** I don't go to bed before I write to you. I have to pile up my today's silences before they turn into a small poem. I sit down to…
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*** Я окрыла les yeux, и мне показалось, что я безнадежно счастлива (désespérément heureux). В тишине утра отчетливо было слышно, как капля дождя падала, как шипела, в твоих руках сигарета…
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*** But soon things changed. Before becoming urgent, the pain Has waited, And then, Restarted a promenade in modo russico. Men in top hats Stood in a circle, Whispering to…
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*** “What is your name?” “I don’t remember.” “And where do you live?” “How can I know it?" “From where would you possibly emerge?” "In the beginning, I remember, was…
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*** They sat next to each other on the piano bench. The night, without candles. They played ‘Le Sacre du printemps’, for four hands - The native - Stravinsky’s -…
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*** Slow it was. Its Excellency - The snow! The snow was waltzing Into the sea, It was. Unable to hide its passion. Was it Madame Karenina? Yes, Anna! Was…
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*** The alarm of seagulls Wakes me up every morning. They screech and they squawk, While I am swimming and turning Under the blanket, Trying to note down what they…
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*** The tissue of ancient trees, delicate laces of limbs, imprints of leaves and seeds are left on the sand of the beach And on the palm of your hand.…
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*** One day the sun will become just another cold star In someone else’s night sky. One night your eye will turn to just another coffee plant In someone else’s…
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2020
*** This is a strange winter: A nymph is chased by lavender tea smells. Fleur de Sel dawns. Sands laid with flowers. Swirls of chicory leaves in the mouth. Lady…
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*** One step away from lips, The wax - a liquid kiss - Gets spilled right on the floor Under four feet In all its gentleness. A glimmer in the…
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*** Your gloved hands Over the pages of a rare book - SintBaldus Beach. December by the sea Is when I never see your wrists, Is when I think: “When…
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*** The morning sun Couldn’t see wind, Only the sand It moved. The sun couldn’t hear the wind, Only the waves it touched. The sun couldn’t smell wind, Only the…
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*** A painting In which I would live forever, A painting That I, like a blind artist, Learn to put in colours By touch and memory. When days pass by…
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*** I have never seen clouds Up on the ground. I’ve never touched les nuages With bare-arms. But today I did. Feet deep in heavens I walked among foam Larger-than-life…
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*** There was no way I could send you a sea-foam rose… Swallowed by pillowy clouds, Between two huge silver mirrors, I dreamt of a bubble bath Going awry in…
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A late-morning coffee at the Cathedral of Light with a grandmaster of organ music -Jan Vermeire. To be still, inside the heart of an organ, and to absorb Chopin. To…
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*** Sincerely, Sunrain. Is running down my back. Through porticoes, Over the black and white tiled gallery, around the lighthouse, above the fish market, against a cacophonous crowd in masks…
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*** At first, there was the fog. Thick silk beige smoke was all that could be heard for miles and miles on either side of sand dunes I’d been allowed…
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*** The sky of spice, The sea of tea, The skin of ginger and jasmine I sip. The clouds cinnamon- Your eyes - sip me. Two coffee pearls, They never…
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*** You were lavender tea Steaming in my hands, The sprawling violet sea Dancing in my lips, Ground fresh chai leaves Rolling along my Silk Road, While ‘Because the Night’…
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*** Blue above, blue below - My first flight around your world. I’ve left the glowing lanterns of the shoreline and set my airforce over the open ocean, rising up…
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*** There is something undeniably gorgeous about sea looking like liquid snow. Today, I felt I was seeing the sea as though the sea was just born. The water was…
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*** The boat arrived by post, Not by water. The boat - by post, A sail in an envelope. I lay down and try to sleep. The occasional zephyr From…
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*** The day we are born is a plexus of happiness for our parents and grandparents, sisters and relatives - those - in great expectation to see our faces. Thus,…
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*** I can't remember precisely when I first saw the sea or how it was, but once I had started seeing it I couldn't stop… until I’d empty it all.…
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*** 100 years later, the tower is standing still, is unmistakable from the ropewalker’s view, spotted by Soyuz and wild seagulls, miles out on a clear evening, faded by nearly…
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*** A single, brightly coloured wing swoops like a feather, dives, lifting a lone figure through the waves with drive, with joy, with speed, with glee the tide goes out…
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🐎🐎🐎 *** In slow motion: the horse - upside down, with its legs up to the sky, in an eye-blink: the horse - in fast-forward mode rising to fly. Children…
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*** From the top of the tower, An elegant chessboard Of streets and sidewalks with people-like figures distracts Rachmaninoff’s “Russian Rhapsody”: I follow a straight line, behind the flock of…
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*** Seen from the night sky, pristinely white In four November walls Your shoulders glow. My palm travels solo across the piano of your body, heading beyond the Arctic Circle…
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*** Even cold-blooded need sunbeams: sunbathing mackerel, sun-seeking shrimp. As serene as the sunfire feels, the sea is under a faraway flame. Even November sun has its share of beach…
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*** Once a wave grows too steep, it breaks. Once the Sun touches the sea, it bleeds. Once the stars walk in, the Moon is In the ripples and scars…
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*** Clouds are not clouds, Still but gliding letters On a blue page In the absence of a clear aim. Light but strong to move one’s dreams, unaware of the…
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*** As the wax melts, the pipes breathe out Bach's presence - sonata number 6: vivace-lente and allegro. An orchestra of autumn leaves is mastered strictly under one's fingertips over…
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*** The first engine invented by people, powered by four sails. driven by wind, it could convert the power of nature into the useful flour or energy, a physical hope…
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*** Rocks travel down rivers and streams, constantly breaking down on their centuries-old hike. Once they make it to the North Sea, they start a life embraced by waves and…
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*** I like long takes - one movement nonstop, especially when watching sunsets - the orange lava orchestrates the blue: one minute - yellow décolletés, next - purple fur coats...…
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*** It "is beyond, beside us, and within", once wrote Malcolm Guite. Yesterday, they showed in news how Bennu, a space rock asteroid, 300 million kilometers from Earth, was touched…
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*** Two players. One mystery. Over the table bed of green baize, under a multi-oil-lamp chandelier you were my opponent. Not wearing a classic tuxedo, but performing trick shots of…
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16/08/2020 To Isa *** "Someday it will become as necessary for us to fly as it is now to walk and swim", said Tatlin, the Russian avant-garde artist who crafted…
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*** Many fish, like you and me, see octaves of colours, swallow the purple stars fall down into the sea’s mouth, listen to the lavender silence of night skies, detect the green…
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For the 21st of June, the birthday of F.Sagan and S.Maino *** For the faint-hearted - not! High above mean sea level! Praying for a storm to stop, the…
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For the 13th of June *** I turn the corner and enter another world: the telegraph wires, stretched taut, from pole to pole, five horizontal lines - a 5 line…
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1.06.2020 Dedicated to Christo *** The architect of post-symphonic miracles, the virtuoso weaver who forced the bronze and marble tremble in the wind - Reichstag, da Vinci's monument, Pont Neuf...…
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🌙🌙🌙 Without even one camel, the nonland, the beige desert, without even one cactus, the dunes meet inside the riddles of one sand rose - la rose des sables! -…
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*** Black caviar pearls on buttered white bread, dark tears drop along the empty page. Your eyes are welded shut by frostbite, your grief - an abstract work of art,…
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Over my blanket - translucent but heavy, a bronze blizzard happens - the bell voices are ringing the drawings, the fragments of cosmos. No, not the couvre-feu, and not for…
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To O.B. *** Far from alone. A magic observed. Your outward wings took us beyond summa académica, into the woods growing on clouds, up to the lake behind the deserts,…
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*** I think about your eyes - the most Mars-like on Earth, heart-slides they cause, each - several times larger than the Solar System , dust and rocks of my…
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*** My Morning Star over La Manche - She looked like every other, but not! She didn’t move - the joy that never stops, when one is early up to…
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*** Being the first on Earth to enter this speechless winter, snow crocuses and white swans have skies and me at their feet. Rising heavenward, crocuses - over the soil,…
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*** Firefighting your wild eyes - along the burning coast where the only guest I was - in stillness of the sun moment - a calligraphic drawing were your words…
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*** You might have taken the wrong way home - A seagull I got into in the realm of salt. Keeping my temper Beautifully - “Possessing is also to belong”.…
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🐠*** A shoal of sardines bathes over the glazed tiled streets of Lisbon, the moon and lanterns here are of pasteis de nata colour and texture. On Praça do Comércio…
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22.01.2020🌧☂️💧 *** Clouds seed tears upon your skin - probably more similar to frost, rain pearls slowly sink deep down the ice layers - your eyes are tired metallic mist.…
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*** Winter brings long nights and long dreams. I preached to the wind this morning, when rewinding my night's sleep's story: the real wildness of how close we were, the…
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*** Still breathing, being something you never were, your grief is more a figure than a cigarette in one's hand. In the mode of a mineral, a distant light, a…
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*** The sun sets in her chrome chest. She crosses the sky on foot. Her thirst is snow, over La Mer Du Nord - never to freeze to stone. Her…
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2019
*** Your arms flood my back, you do nothing but hold me in them, taking me to heights unachievable on my own, and not a soul around: only a tutu…
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*** She gazed into the Christmas bulbs and smiled. The smile and bulbs seemed to have been frozen in time, in a well-mannered, low-keyed serenity. The healing power of pre-New…
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When I forgot to breathe, when earthquakes were my fingers, unblinking and pacific, in front of me, you were, a snowflake - unmelting.
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*** Twelfth month, twelfth day, the last full moon of this decade. 12 signifies completion. At 12 PM, after my morning hustles with bank cards and money, I am boardwalking…
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*** ‘The Chronicles of San Francisco’- An animated fresco By JR, The French artist, Portrays 1200 people’s nightmares And dreams, Happening now in the Golden Gate City. The fresco Inspired…
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*** Chasing San Francisco 22 years since our last meeting. I am older. So is the Golden Gate City. Armed with a sweater, “Devotion” by Patti Smith, I sit by…
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*** You fastened my seatbelt, You said: "Sit, still. Remember me!" - same as Van Gogh's ear sent to Gabi accompanied by "You will recall me ". You are the…
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*** The shoulders to hide behind, to climb or conquer nights long, the contrapposto pose, the serenity and monumental devotedness to me - even the busy and indifferent Rue Froissart…
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*** I will read out loud to you, the sound of the Slavic vowels would drive you closer, you'd let my book slip from my fingers and fall down onto…
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*** I hear the river in tender white, under the black bridge warmed by red city trams, ironing the silver rails in -36,6 agony. I care no longer but for…
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*** Muddy, gold and swan-less they get in Autumn - the Volga river and my hometown. The more I think of it now, the sadder the canvas unfolds. The greatest…
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We'd slip quietly upstairs, I'd lead you by a single finger to the roof. On an impulse I'd grab a pillow and would rip out feathers by the handful, I'd…
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*** In the Southern sunlight I walked into the sterile hand symphony of yours. Before you had a second to resist, I shot the image with my eye and moved…
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*** I kiss the left bottom corner of the photo, I touch the force which lifts me higher than the airplane that holds me tight and brings to Budapest. The…
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*** On the art nouveau steps of a theater, the unjewelled silhoette witnessed by maritime figures of pines and me at Villa Torlonia, with no airplanes in the air, moved…
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*** We’d rest on the floor afterwards. As a leaf curl on my stomach your palm would lie, my eye would cascade down a seashell belly-button of yours. My fingers,…
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*** Sometimes I spend lunches in galleries, alone with Flemish or Italian rarities. I'd sit in quietude before a canvas or a statue for minutes. In love with silence of…
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Unseen pattern of inexisting kisses, Unseen insects - cicadas Sing and speak in the Da Vinci’s garden. I feel weightless When running behind you, Leaving the prints on the art…
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With my eyes half-closed And my head to one side (Cause I sleep on my stomach), I slide my arms around your neck And surrender To your un-kisses. Sleepless, I…
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Felt all at sea, Moving as through water over you. ’No day without the line’- Why would you know that? I take a clean sheet, Pick up a pencil, Start…
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*** You were the shoes, I was the cloud, Walking along the quayside, Flowing above the sound Of waves. You left the traces on the wharf, I – shadows on…
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*** There were the windows without curtains, arm-open, There was an ocean without water, stepping in slowly, vowel-by-vowel, inside the me and the cotton-walled living, where the pink beach were…
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*** The beauty of you is not a chance, it can’t be changed by dress, your haute couture skin is finest crêpe de chine, your inimitable way of walking forward…
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*** He believes he is her devotee, not a stalker. He says he follows her, but he is not a haunter. He says she is his butterfly, but not his…
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*** We were in the middle of each other, with doors looked, curtains sealed, with full-open wings, almost hovering in the eye of the wind, at several thousand feet above…
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*** There was a long moment of falling as in a dream, or like the snow, a moment when the world came to a full stop, when the universe shrank…
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*** Impossible to measure, Impossible to quantify, The silence In which I sit, By which I’m fossilised, Smelling the may bells, Thinking of you Unbuttoning your shirt, Unbuttoning your heart.…
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*** We keep our separate silences, Belgium outside is in clouds, trembles in spasms of rain, the skies leak through my fingers glued to the cold French window, the treetops…
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*** There was nothing left for us but to thank the stars for hearing the keys under these hands, under the hands without music, under the hands without any land…
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*** Sometimes I go to Honfleur, I walk its coble stones and forest roads, there is a lot of French noise: wine clinking, chanson and laughter, and in front of…
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*** The joy of that black night is still alive and pulsing in me. That joy is also to drive me on towards the white nights that I am dreaming…
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*** I didn’t know wether to laugh or cry when I saw a pixel today, extracted carefully from Mona Lisa’s hands, to make them breathe, to make them stand straight…
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For years she had swallowed it up in daily doses - the skin&bones models in little black dresses - she followed the rules, and even accepted to be a good…
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*** My heart hammers so hard when I imagine you walking the streets we walked together, I still don't know how much the gift of freedom and trust can cost…
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She is a catsuit, A catsuit that is thought to be Too vulgar, Too Extravagant, Too food For hungry eyes And mouths Of the judges, Of spectators in fedora hats…
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*** Among these gentlewomen, addicted to late hours, grappa’s and poetry, sometimes neurotic, more often self-confident, wearing men's smoking’s or lovely Scottish kilts, enjoying the routine of being themselves in…
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Clean lines, white walls, green tables for ping-pong, machine precision, love of less and faultless geometry - the interior recalls the Lenin’s Worker’s Club of Alexandr Rodchenko, designed a century…
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*** I suddenly thought what I was there for was to see the best of all possible worlds - your hands, for not playing safe, for staying true to myself,…
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*** It’s just a small, shadow-casting hand that keeps playing Chopin. It’s just a small hand floating in a blissful sea of white bed linen, I feel like an art…
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*** Outlined in pencil, your hands are dancing beyond the margins of my paper. Lost somewhat in reproduction, I am puzzled, not only because of the reduction in size but…
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*** We were alone in all that blackness of the night, dry lips triumphantly were trying to zigzag something that they call 'love', it felt like we were on a…
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*** Saw almost no-one this weekend, which kept my mind clean, the more I leave people out, the closer to something I am. I looked attentively at the sky, at…
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*** You are as exciting as the painting - rich in hues, something painful and beautiful, and what is not understood is happily not understood… Your eyes the most burning…
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*** Invariably hungry for you. I smile silently week after week mocked by the memories of how you walk towards my face, dozens of fresh waves pass quickly across my…
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*** I wanted it to be spring, I wanted to rub you and lie by you till you just sailed gently off to sleep, I wanted to see you when…
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*** My ice sheets are melting, once strong, now fragile like cotton, when the open-water vessels - your mountain blue eyes - do navigate my Volga. Diving up here is…
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*** An endless paradise is watching your eyes. Every time it starts with me standing on a cliff top, catching the breeze, watching the cyclone that blows red clouds over…
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*** 5 o’clock Brussels “Tea-time!”, you said? “Non-Sense!” Rue de la Loi/ Wetstraat, The major Straße, Home to the EU Commission, The Prime Minister and the Parliament, Is burning with…
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*** Bonjour, Honfleur! Adieu, Honfleur! Tu es inscrite dans les lignes du brouillard, Tu es observée par la Côte De Grace sans Françoise Sagan. Tu es inscrite dans le bois…
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