CROATIA

mir@nycny.net 

A Blank Eye Is

A BLANK EYE IS crammed with people on the run
the other eye has been blind for ages

still there is some room for you and me
ivy already braids the cornea all around 

it drinks tears
to save us

from flood
we pray

it won't choke
itself

Otherwise I've Learned

OTHERWISE, I'VE LEARNED about a fairly considerable role
of hair in the division of the world.

The summer smells of a loss:
the sickles walk on their tips

in the procession, shorter after the departure
than after the arrival, carrying your hair.

My hands got entangled in the hair, which is
older than the known history of the world.

While I was kept hidden from the outpourings of grief,
I cut myself with the sickle.

I saw red stars falling on my bloody 
palm resembling raspberries.

The leaves of the couch grass were as
severe as faith: I plucked them and

put them on my palm so that the pain could be
gone by night, when all pains start growing.

I was six at the time and I saw your hair
and face engraved on my palm.

It was mid July, when the monument to commemorate
the loss was solemnly unveiled.

A Swish Of Glittering

A SWISH OF GLITTERING creatures in
the air: a school of fish, a swarm of flies, a flock of birds -

they deprive me of heaviness of walking,
of compulsion of breathing.

Have you seen them?
You know, you just open the window and, if you're lucky enough,

you'll see them. No,
I haven't seen anything.

Did you open the window? Yes.
Well, you do have the window. Yes.

How come you haven't
seen them? Are you

blind? No. Are you
happy? No, I can

not answer this. You can
not answer this? Yes.

A Meeting With The One

A MEETING WITH THE ONE who has
suffered amnesia is needed desperately. To embrace

his body bathed in continuous weeping
(but never for himself).

In the meantime - do 
your best:

bring tears back
into the eyes:

bring words back
into the mouth:

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