An island planted in the entrails of the city
Shipwrecked on its shore
I find shelter
Succumbed to a will that is finally my own

A tall fire starts in the darkest corner
And there I call you

I love you

In all the languages I have ever spoken to you

In all the languages we will ever speak



I promised to come

Here I am


Let go

I am free and you are free

I say it loud and clear


In all the languages that bound me to you

In all the languages that set us free

For all lifetimes to come

An eternal season of honeysuckle and crickets

A rotting carcass
Roses behind wrought iron fences
My parted lips as I breathe through my open mouth
Become numb and cold
Curiously cold
As the middle of my upper lip starts pulsating
Perhaps it rembers being sucked into a kiss
I then sink into my rib cage
A birdcage for my heart
My lungs two beehives keeping her warm
Will she ever break free?
I remember many, many years ago
A foot (I later had to love)
Stepped on it so hard
My ribs broke like a bundle of dry twigs
Under a thin layer of leaves on a forest path
There came a brief moment of stillness
Before something slipped out
Hovered above for a while
And flew off
Was it me?

A poem for my stomach (at night)

mirror road tm 7 jul16

Be still my stomach now
The night is calm and sleep it wins
But morning comes too soon
The sun doth shine and breakfast comes
May your plate be as full as the moon
And eat thou shall and make no plan
So joyous thou shalt be again

In Timișoara, getting creative when hunger strikes at night. Took the photo this morning on a happy stomach.



Exactly one year ago today I moved my things into a new house and started a new life. So today I’m starting writing on my new blog, as an anniversary present I’m giving myself.

At the end of a long and intense day, I accidentally took the left turn too soon and found myself at the gate of this church I’ve been meaning to visit. To my surprise, it was still open and a tall man greeted me at the gate. I slowly stepped on this green island, roses and geraniums everywhere. It was so quiet I wanted to slow down my breath not to disturb the stillness. I leaned my bike against the church wall and, out of habit, locked it to a wooden bench. I went inside and felt like someone picked me up by the head and dipped me in a jar of incense and lily honey.

It’s so close to where I live and still I’d kept postponing to go inside. Schitul Darvari.

PS Dear Gabriel, be a good angel and make me understand the messages you bring.