The starving cans (Serbian included)


I stumbled over my colours

I cramped in myself

and they are always hidden from themselves

they are always stopped short

The perfect circle around the smell

A rat’s raised leg

shot up into the heights

 

I’ve collected everything: starving cans,

enemies who wanted to poison me

Stormy shadow, metaphors, precipice

I got angry with the bus cards

Never

I’ll never be able to throw anything away.

 

I dumped waste at the dreary poetry cemetery

It is everywhere

My song.. .. it never was, inside her forgetfulness

And my story .. my story .. was my story

 

in no place, they don’t look

Once upon a time, there was meow and meow

you smell

still smells the same

I meow

 

They.. are dead .. and grown over swear  – words in the wind

appeared in this den

My house, my house, you took over my red home

Red times

No pain.

Maybe later.

 

I feel a recurrence of one’s presence

I feel that old

Inappropriate to stay here anymore

(Scream in the distance)

 

They never liked you

They never liked you

They never liked you

And you’re just pretending, too

The wind’s forgotten appeared

 

someone takes off your memory

be happy they forgot about you

you are finally free

****

Naletela sam na svoje boje

Slamala sam se u sebi

Uvek su skriveni od sebe oni..

uvek su zaustavljeni

savršen krug okolo mirisa

podignuta noga pacova

puca u visine

 

Sakupila sam sve: pregladnele limenke

neprijatelje koji su me hteli otrovati

olujne sene, metafore, provalije..

bila sam ljuta na autobuske karte

Nikad

nikad neću moći ništa da bacim

 

Bacila sam otpad na grozno groblje turobne poezije

Ono je svuda

moja pesma… nikada nije bila moja pesma u njenoj

zaboravnosti

i moja priča.. moja priča.. bila je moja priča..

 

Ni na jedno mestu, ne gledaju.. jednom davno..

Jednom davno, bilo je – mjau i mjau

smrdiš

i dalje miriše isto

Ja – mjau

Oni su mrtvi

prerasli su psovke na vetru

pojavio se u ovoj jazbini

 

Moja kuća, moja kuća

preuzeli su moj crveni dom

crvena vremena

bez bola. možda kasnije..

 

Osećam ponavljanje prisutnosti

osećam se tako staro

neprikladno je da ostanem ovde.. više..

 

(vrisak u daljini)

Nikad te nisu voleli

Nikad te nisu voleli

Nikad te nisu voleli

I ti se samo pretvaraš

Pojavio se vetar…

neko ti skida pamćenje

budi srećna što su zaboravili na tebe

napokon si slobodna

EVICTED


I was gone for 15 hours last night, at my place. And since I couldn’ t remember where I’ d been, it’ s been bothering me until I came up with an idea – I’ll use my imagination. So, I imagined myself sitting on a bench in the town square with a blank notebook on my lap putting pieces of my magnum opus together, with shining eyes, despite the fact that my landlord, by the way, a typical nincompoop from around here, without any sense for someone with such sensibilities, kicked me out of the apartment!

boston_globe_eviction_color

 

Fate Of Two Young Lovers


You will go blind soon I think
Like the dead that squint
Near strong light
The victors at the end of all suns
Who brought forth the octopuses on the shores
Usually rising
With a finger on the lip
whispering.

The dead are hungry on flame
Joy is their power
By the vermilion of shame
Each new morning is provoked.
The sign of shame before the living
Is achieved by watching:
Roams the eye oblique onto the elbow
And the sharp taste of the living.

hand-painted-wall-font-b-art-b-font-font-b-black-b-font-white-kissing-font

Tell me what I merely remember
And what haunts me in the dream to remember
Uncertain is the speech
The hush curses it.
You get the sun used to dieing
On the place where I dissolved
Speaking and hushing,
I hear only that which
Echoes
With barking silence.

Who extolled the dead
Who sang,
Ash or fire?
Do I hear a voice?
Or is it just the falling of the leaves?

I no longer hear you
Nor is my throat strained by vessels.
So have the dead decided
Young lovers
With tongue under the throat
Flung back
towards the twisted death of the living.