my dreams are around me in the colors and shapes of nature and the stony history and the people's heart
i salute you
i am one of you in the suffering
i see no other way but to collect the last pieces of us

to increase the number of bees

the dance

if we had to find our way into the landscape


please, join us,
sign the petition here

are we asleep?
we see it is too late
yet, in our dreams, it is still dawn
we began to talk about the news
yawning in between
never, we say
our mind cannot hold reality
as a fork
we cannot dine the truth
but the truth is a non-place
a place in our dreams
we are too common, we might say
to be excused
and we are
we really are
ignorant

αυτοί που ξεχωρίζουν

the world is shaken

whose arm are we to lean on now

that our parents are gone?

इन white

द्रिप्पिंग व्हिते कोलोर्स इन फ्रोंत ऑफ़ थे

our new kind of vocabulary
introduced by the roots

the same thought in the daylight

good morning
white-lighted, sung and unstopped

once i put my mind on the case of language
i feel i am floating on a piece of land which moves
on a world of flowing water
maybe because i do not know so much
maybe because i have excused myself from the task
of creating

nice morning
greyishly shaded with the smell of tea gathered in the mountains







ps. the swans who can talk

again, thank you Ritva

i have seen the only possible -perceivable- time
the movement of the clouds the suns and the moon
mine has been a thought for seeing for moving for suffering the
existence of the humankind

communicating the thought presupposes a language in common
as swans could have -i think- conveyed the experience of their journey
by forcing the sea to reveal the essence of waves