Here are some of my old poems from the collections G-Major Prelude,
 Sunflower Alley and Epistles to ... I am also adding some new poems once in a while ..


A Grayer Shade of Blue



A Perfect Justice in the World
/Or: An Optimized Romance/


A perfect dilution

A perfect solution

Of a problem

A disillusion

A conclusion



A grayer shade of pale

A darker shade of blue

A grayer shade of gray...


A perfect administration

Of a medicine

To all and anyone

And wide, wide, wide by Huygens Principle

One quark to every one

In the world

In real and virtual spaces alike


All have right to be glad

and smile

and avatar


A Dragonfly

A Witch

A Snow White


As Snow What

As Snow Grey?`

A grayer shade of pale

A darker shade of blue

A grayer shade of black









trapped in a world

of otherworldly maze

she was searching

marble emptiness





and public

otherworldly public

was shouting

from above her head

[as if to lead her

through the maze]





cold cold



what way was right?

what voice was true?

who's friends?

who's foes?


she was searching

endless emptiness

on her own

she was alone


in the world


in the maze


on the earth


who could not

see herself

from above




An Old Song

And Gods they admire wise men and saints

But they love singers where they sing and play*

How wouldn’t they.

Even we know knowledge

Yet we feel feelings …
We feel knowledge and
 we know feelings..

As feelings need no reason …
Feelings reach the world first.

Expecting ones brains 

Be stronger than ones soul
What a wishful thinking!!

Even Gods they admire wise men and saints

But they love singers where they sing and play
Yes, indeed



*Actually, in Socrates’ discourse on the path of the soul in Plato’s Phaedrus, he says

that those souls who catch the clearest glimpse of ‘real beings’ in the highest heavens

before their first descent into a terrestrial condition begin their cycle of incarnations

by living the lives of philosophers, musicians or lovers.

These three lives are considered the best of a possible nine kinds

– a range which falls towards the nadir in the life of a tyrant.




Bio  -  Logical  ....    Mereological .....  Song


In       My   Life              as        a  Slime     Mold

I     never     know:      who am I?      Am I one?      Am     I       m a n y?

Others    are         given       blessing of    knowing.          Knowing for sure…

They see        on me          (see on us?)          from above ….

“Above”          is p o w e r        ….     p o w e   r     of       knowing ….

W h o   y o u   a r e …            w h o   we   a r e ………..

{If  …….       we    are …   .one….          [ just       in     case]?}                         

Smashed         into       p     i     e    c    e    s   could I be me? Could I be we?

Who                 are             we me?







Game Over

 I have seen with my own eyes the Sibyl hanging in a cage,
and when the boys asked her “
What do you want?
She answered, “
I want to die.” “
Petronius, Satyricon


"Speak to me. Why do you never speak. Speak. "

"What are you thinking of? What thinking? What? "

"I never know what you are thinking. Think."


"Are you alive, or not? "


And we shall play a game of chess,

Pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door.


Goonight Bill. Goonight Lou. Goonight May. Goonight.

Ta ta. Goonight. Goonight.

Good night, ladies, good night, sweet ladies, good night, good night.


T. S. Eliot, The Waste Land,
PART II A Game of Chess  (originally titled “In the Cage”)

all the same, number 7 was significant.

The 7th letter of the alphabet is G,

Which stands for God.

There are 7 continents,

There are 7 oceans.

 In the 'Seventh Seal' the Knight plays chess with the Death,

His Life depending
on the ending of the game.

"And when he had opened the seventh seal,

there was silence in heaven" (Revelation 8:1).

White against Black sides,

Good versus Evil.

Should a lady play dungeons
and dragons?

Should a decent lady
play chess?

By the way:

 a computer

2007-10-25 11:27

PS Where have I been all these years? Any guess?



Anadyomene, Diana

"Min egen Sjæls Gudinde, som alene bør lydes, 

 hvis Navn er som en Salve, der duftende udgydes ... 

 igennem Skum af Minder, som Storm og Strøm begraved, 

 min Eva Afrodite er opstegen af Havet."

    Sophus Claussen,  Anadyomene, Lyrik

Diana Goddess of the hunt, with bow and arrow,

Diana goddess of the moon, with a stag,

Diana virgin goddess and an earth goddess, Diana - Artemis.

Diana, twin sister of Apollo, goddess of the woodlands,

Every grove was sacred to her!

Goddess of nature, and of the harvest,

Diana guardian of springs and streams
Limnatis, Lady of the Lake,
Diana defender of wild animals!

Goddess of Light, protector of the suffering,

Diana healing goddess!

Artemis, who nursed her own twin brother Apollo,

Artemis of untamed spirit!

Artemis Phoebe, the bright one!

Diana carrying a candle or a torch,
Diana giving courage, illuminating the darkness!

 And yet..

And yet cruel jealous Apollo tricked her into killing her dear dear Orion,

that distant object on the horizon to be hit with an arrow..

[She was way too good an archer!]


"Wer, wenn ich schriee, hörte mich denn aus der Engel Ordnungen?"

(If I cried out, who would hear me up there, among the angelic orders?)

Rainer Maria Rilke,  Duino Elegies







Dance of the Seven Veils
“In any other world
You could tell the difference”
(Mika, Life In Cartoon Motion, 2007) 
Yet in this single world here and now
Differences seem to be fading away step by step 
Objects cluster and slowly vanish into flimsy fabric
Of impervious veil of informational maya
Behind yet seven veils of disinformational maya
And so also on April 24, 2007
Or was it 25? - I don’t remember exactly again. Sorry.

Someone else making sense?
Just, just where am I now and what am I doing?
A nameless unnamable world not responding to my call.
Interestingly enough, tears seem to have a name.
[Even though they never suffered themselves
They were given an identity from the beginning!]
Unlike Me! 
Unlike my world which I don’t seem to recognize.
||: [fine]
So I say to my sister, Magistra Ludi, please note it:
This leopard-colored toy purse from a hypothetic far-away country
You say you bought on a bazaar for ten kunas 
(12 crowns or so by the way)
Is just a print of a faceless exploitation
[Hidden behind an impervious veil of informational maya
Behind yet seven veils of disinformational maya]
I will never forget!
“My face is no sad”
 [Da cappo al fine]





Jacob's Ladder

And he dreamed that there was a ladder set up on the earth,
and the top of it reached to heaven; and behold,
the angels of God were ascending and descending on it!
Book of Genesis (28:11-19)

  Angel of God descending on Jacob’s ladder
a ladder to heaven or to the second floor

He in all his divine beauty descending so slowly

He behind a bullet proof mask of just a bit confused smile
A shadow of smile neither for me watching bewitched in despair
Nor for a blonde girl standing bellow greeting in high voice heeeeeeeeellooooooooo…

And I slowly go, I slowly go all the way up to my room,
Hiding from the world, only to read in an old
Petrarch’s: Canzoniere:

So, confused by the first assault,
I had no opportunity or strength
to take up arms when they were needed,

or withdraw me shrewdly to the high,
steep hill, out of the torment,
from which it wishes to save me now but cannot.

I close my eyes. It is about noon: an invisible line dividing my day
into  half a day before
and half a   day after





Fata Morgana

En Viena hay diez muchachas,
un hombro donde solloza la muerte
y un bosque de palomas disecadas.
Hay un fragmento de la mañana
en el museo de la escarcha.
Hay un salón con mil ventanas.

F. G. Lorca, Pequeño Vals Vienés

And, finally, I see a mirrage of those hands again

White long-necked swans

heads slightly bowed

I see an image of those eyes again

Sad smile seeking to look encouraging and so ...

I smile myself wary in return

And I wonder






a lovely spring night

suddenly vanished

while viewing cherry blossoms

matsuo basho





Memory (haiku)

Spring flower-beds

hazelnuts hidden: squirrel!

still remembers?...





G-Major Prelude


As if in a Dream, Your Life...

Your life is running ahead of you

giving you a brief look askance

are you awake or is it a dream?

have you ever got a real chance

to recognize

before your inner glance

by the same token a silent scream?

are you awake or is it a dream???


it was your life!!!









Studio Scene, Fantasy

A hollow clay jar with brushes

empty canvas on my easel

palette smells turpentine

half transparent warm darkness

through the curtains with blue and pink mawkish roses

 breath of air sometimes

moon shadow slips down

and continues

on the tips of its toes...

painting about to materialize


between being









Not all is so important

The way the shadows cross the docks in the evenings

while transatlantic ships eagerly await to start their journeys

The reason why butterflies bear Euclidean prophetic signs

Not much

Not the fact that they played just just Chopin

Haven't you noticed:

Not much  matters.

Even if it would be true

that hearts of the dead  by necessity decay

minerals continue to grow

alternating with indifference

as tides

with high efficiency

At night

kerosene lamp will shed some tiny light sometimes

Then the next day maybe

It will be springtime ceremony for kite flyers


Not all is so important





Sunflower Alley



Skies are bright yellow

 Leaves cadmium

Girls golden locks Naples.

The eyes mirror reflections & dream in yellow ochre:


Pale yellow grass meadow in sun:

[ Wind slowly waves

its vibrant lemon yellow poppies ]






Entirely Prosaic Impression

You have no idea

how empty violet-bluish contours of an evening can hurt

in low voice

as if the breeze expiring in the woodland

says something ... hardly audible... teardrops in the teacup...


No matter where! Escape!

Worn to a green shadow

green as someone's felt pen





Summer Miniature II


If possible even more immovable than ruthlessly betrayed lilies

We are going to build sky high sand towers of green silicon dioxide crystals

Some kid smiling

will destroy the whole thing

and we will laugh aloud

(did I hear: no way?
if so, would you please keep quiet?)

Let's start from the very beginning.







Don't let me go

don't let me disappear,

dissolve in the vacuum full of zero-point oscillations

don't let me turn to ice to crystal bowl of silent tears again to empty hollow jade jar

don't let me fade away in mist

See me

tell me your name

tell me.. tell me.. tell






Summer Still Young

Early June morning in gardens greenery

in birds lovely singing

in distant threat of an increasing distance

in summer dress sitting on a veranda

eavesdrop a deep calm relaxed dialogue

in ample  rooms where resonant walls sound

making mirror reflection somersaults

 an early June morning








Broken pieces of heaven blue china

on a sunny day

Hours of flickering concentration in the night

Cobwebs in the  early morning's eyes

So many...

So many...

So many incredibly lovely pieces blue china

in my cobweb pockets..

I must avow -

I am a rich lady

Yes, I am.






Nach dem Ball No.13 (Gretchaninov)

Über allen Gipfeln
Ist Ruh
(Wandrers Nachtlied, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe)

What was left was right.
All right,..
..After all...





Beforehand Payment

That is how I know you. You are what I know.

Jeanette Winterson

I did everything in advance

[without ever knowing]

Paid my dues in despair with no explanation at hand

[without ever knowing]

Cried and screamed and disintegrated under my own fury

enraged, exasperated, disconsolate and all over again

[without ever knowing]

Vicious circle





cirkus cirkör

[without ever knowing]

All into a context-free language form





and so...finally

petri netified..

no wonder...

[at last learning]


but all true!

Because truths we don’t suspect
have a hard time. 
Alice Fulton





Reality TV


I spend much of my time
on the other side
of the looking glass.

i live there in that virtual world.
what is good about it
what i like about it is
the possibility of everything.

whatever i imagine might be there.
platon loved it too.
the world behind the mirror.
the ideal world.

but then, again,
against all odds,
my heart belongs to this
only one common
real earthly world.

what i love about it is
that we can agree at least
on a minimum common ground
that mount everest is where it is for me
and for rabindranath tagore
and whoever else
might be concerned
the discreet charm of reality
incomparable charm of facts of life
nothing is as seductive as facts

oh, god help me i really do belong to this
real world
that is where i belong
where i return
every time
when i get fed up with
and illusions
virtues of the virtual

when i am forced to choose
i always choose the worse.
i am not stupid.
its only love
in real
and its difficult to explain.

i can write a poem
from the other side of the looking glass

one of those light mornings
when all just flows and floats
chirrups and twitters
but my heart
my real heart
is on the real side
all bloody and vulnerable
as life itself


Or, in French..


Télé réalité

Je passe beaucoup de temps

de l’autre côté du miroir

je vis dans le monde virtuel

ce qui est bien dans tout ça

que j’aime bien est que

tout y possible.

tout ce que j’imagine peut être là

plato aimait ça aussi.

le monde de l’autre côté du miroir

monde idéal




malgré tout cela

en fin de journée

mon cœur revient

vers ce monde










unique monde sur terre

ordinaire et réel

ce que j’aime pourtant en lui

est qu’il y existe un consensus

général minimal

le mont everest est là où il est

pour moi et pour rabindranath tagore

et pour quiconque

qui se sentirait concerné

charme discret de la réalité

incomparable charme des faits de la vie

rien n’est aussi séduisant que les faits

oh mon dieu je fais en fait partie

du monde réel

j’y appartiens réellement

y retourne régulièrement

lorsque j’en ai assez avec

des idéalisations

des illusions

des vertus du virtuel

lorsque je dois choisir

je choisis toujours le pire

je ne suis pas bête

il ne s’agit que de l’amour

en fait

c’est difficile à expliquer

je peux écrire un poème

de l’autre côté du miroir

un de ces clairs matins

pendant que tout coule et plane

gazouille et babille

tout sauf mon cœur

mon vrai cœur qui se trouve

du côté du réel

sanguinolent vulnérable

comme la vie elle-même




 (Translated by my friend Suada Tozo-Waldmann)





Life on the Nile

As if left to crumble away infinitely slowly in the stone

Returning to the sands of Saqqara

Ramses the Great

Amon Raa's protégé


Tales of schemer

long ago commanding attention.

Did commoners hope to live like kings in the afterlife?

Here on the sunset bank of the Nile this moment

gaggles of geese

gilded by the sun










A Winter's Day in March

I suppose the time will come
Hinder it a little
When the Corn in Silk will dress
And in Chintz the Apple

E. Dickinson

A presentiment of pale, hardly conceivable springtime,
Early, hazy, washed out, treacherous March,
Forgotten the reason of why things were the way they were,
In case they were at all - which was not so sure either,
[Things have a habit to deteriorate with time as wave packets do, ..]

Not only memories of summer faded away, but also the sense of sense,
The meaning of meaning, the feeling of feeling, and all,..

Just look at those unrecognizable contours of  budding,
That has long back promised to come and forgotten, of course,
[Things are not invariant on real life transformations, obviously,..]

Godblessed! The day,
In the Shadow of Young Girls in Flower,
Is someone elses day,
a long way, ..away..






The Prisoners Dilemma

Early Sunday mornings one might feel like imprisoned in the own cell

in its nucleus and what is even more in its chromosomes

and even deep in the DNA so twisted in a double helix

One may feel chained and deserted exposed and vulnerable

One may ask if determinism makes sense and why should I care at all

It's none of my business, anyway,

Just who says tit for tat strategy is the best?

I wouldn't say so!

Shall I be blamed? If yes - what for?
And if no - who else?

Isn´t he lovely in any case?

Either not assailed, or victor being charged,
Yet this thy praise cannot be so thy praise,
To tie up envy, evermore enlarged,
If some suspect of ill masked not thy show,
Then thou alone kingdoms of hearts shouldst owe.

(William Shakespeare, Sonnet LXX)