I forgot

 

I forgot (several times already) to whisper to the key to remind me what it is to be outside the door

I forgot to count the dimples on the zucchini while gathering the bitten lip skin into a pile

I forgot to watch a youtube tutorial and see if I could make whipped cream from a banana

with chickpea water

that same day the laundry was pushing for a place in the basket

the bag was overflowing with bills

because the forecast left no triangular imprint on my gaze

to bounce slightly

I don’t even know how much a raincoat costs to cover myself and a bicycle

which becomes like my dog’s skin

pushing away wet hands

yet I didn’t forget to think about the dreams of the invisible tree

the delicate grooves on the stump and the fact it was healthy

I didn’t forget to multiply all the fridges and slimy scraps

waterfalling into toilet tanks after cleaning

and the brownish current on the stretch (above the bridge)

I didn’t forget about the oceans

the disrupted bottom and the movements of pale coral skeletons

in this moment I am gathering food that blocks the drain so I can finish washing the dishes

(at work)

I didn’t forget about the whirlpools of vanity

and the tiny pieces of napkins for writing ways to weave compassion

into the present moment of the world

   

past lives

in a pigeon’s eye, whole worlds unfold
simple wishes fan out like feathers—
wooing, preening, the slap of wings

I offer sunflower seeds
and call out, mind to sky,
to those who vanished with their first flight

we raised many
one bashful, one bold, one a born ruler—
Pipin, Mango, and Billy,
our proud king, limping with sciatica

on sunny weekends,
we sometimes bathe them in the shower stall

they leave feathers behind
that cling for days in the hallway,
to fingertips
and folds of the mind

beside waking life, another lives—
in a big yard, tiny houses
filled with sugar-sweet meetings
of birds
from past lives.

                                                  prošli životi

u golubljem pogledu svašta se vidi,

lepeze jednostavnih želja;

snubljenje, šepurenje, šamari krilom

 

dajem im sjemenke suncokreta

i telepatski prizivam one

iščezle nakon prvih letova

 

othranili smo ih dosta

jedan je sramežljiv, drugi znakovit a treći alfa

Pipin, Mango i Bili;

naš ponosni kralj s išijasom

 

za sunčane vikende katkad ih operemo u tuš kabini

 

ostavljaju nam perje

ono se danima lijepi u hodniku

jagodicama i moždanim pregradama

 

paralelno s javom stanuje

u velikom dvorištu kućice

prepune šećernih susreta ptica

iz prošlih života.

 

sekundarni dupljaš

 

u zeleni utor pregače stavljam pregaženog daždevnjaka. prije sam sakupljala kosti, sada mi dolaze osušena tijela. miceliji mirišu u zatvorenom balkonu. prsišta kornjaša potopljena su u ogledala, gdje kalkuliram veći ulov sunca. večer je, no neću s tobom roniti ptice, ni puniti jastuke različkom.  postao si sekundarni dupljaš, u meni ćeš prezimiti iz dosade.

Secondary Cavity-Nester

In the green fold of my apron, I tuck a salamander, flattened by passing wheels.
Once I gathered bones—
now the world sends me dried bodies.
On the enclosed balcony, the air carries the musk of mycelium.
Beetle chests sink into mirrors,
where I tally up a richer harvest of sunlight.

Evening arrives, but I will not dive with you for birds,
nor stuff pillows with cornflower down.
You have become a secondary nester of hollows,
 wintering here—
out of boredom.

 

    habitacije s paucima ili nedostajanje

jesi li znao da u kutu usne, između listića moje ispucale kože, sa svake strane živi pauk?
ne prizemljuje slova. ostaje van dohvata ozbiljnog razgovora. pokušavam shvatiti njegove taktike hlađenja tijekom ljetnog zagrijavanja kuhinje.

ovih dana je tako vruće da ne mogu jesti nadolazeću oluju. honorari kasne. kuhanje samoj sebi je kao izravnavanje skoliozne kralježnice-velika besmislica!
 nakupljene koštice lubenice stoje na metalnoj mreži odvoda.  pauci nisu žrtve poplava misli kad je zrak težak a propuh nikako da povuče.

pauci u tajnosti vuku koštice u praznu teglu i prizivaju nicanje.

Habitations with Spiders, or Absence

Did you know that in the corner of my mouth, between the flakes of my cracked skin, a spider lives on each side?
It does not ground words. It stays beyond the reach of serious conversation. I try to understand its cooling strategies during the summer heating of the kitchen.

These days it is so hot I cannot swallow the coming storm. Payments arrive late. Cooking for myself feels like straightening a scoliosis spine—a grand futility.
Accumulated watermelon seeds rest on the metal mesh of the drain. Spiders are not victims of thought-floods when the air is heavy and the draft refuses to pull.

In secret, the spiders drag the seeds into an empty jar and summon their sprouting.

 

Lying down in clouds of (her) blood

 

Inside movements are grinding the silences,

of broken up (other) options, (we) move on,

the imprinted silences are awoken in a spasm,

while thousands of stings move from the lower belly,

into the spine and legs,

and slow down the repetition of movements,

halting the dexterity of smells,

into a condensation of nausea,

impeding the agility,

enveloping (me) with fatigue.

Clouds of blood are waiting for me,

So I can lie down on them,

the tops of hips piercing while throbbing,

as I collect black dots on a ripe banana,

and set the red clover flower tea to boil,

while sucking on a tablet of magnesium.

The entire body’s weight concentrated in the lotus navel,

they say that the pain is like a minor contraction?

Tonight, I dive into fetal position earlier,

and think to myself before sleep,

perhaps this time it was a bit better.

 

 

      zaležani oblaci krvi

 

unutarnje kretnje melju tišine,

iskidanih (drugih) opcija, nastavljam(o) dalje,

nijemosti su probuđene u spazmu,

dok tisuće uboda prelazi iz donjeg dijela trbuha,

u kralježnicu i noge,

u zgusnuća mučnina,

u otežanu okretljivost.

čekaju me oblaci krvi,

da ih zalegnem,

 vrhovi kukova pulsiraju,

dok sakupljam crne točkice banane,

stavljajući da provriju cvjetovi djeteline.

 

otvaram tabletu magnezija.

 

u pupak se sakuplja sva težina tijela,

kažu da je bol nalik manjem trudu?

večeras ranije uranjam u fetus oblik,

i prije sna razmišljam,

možda je ovaj put bilo malo bolje.

 

majka

 

 majka dolazi iz dežurstva. nevidljiva kiša sipi niz utrnute obraze.

glasno razbacane stvari osamljene su. između kuhinje, blagovaone i kupaone, nema prozora, ali ima mala stazica plijesni. naučila sam  pritajeno u ritmu kidati rubne dijelove tapete.

 

popikavam se i pratim kako koljena crvene. bijele fleke putuju po udubini zgloba do krugova očnih kapaka. iz svake boli koju progutam izrasta po jedna čestoslavica.

 

sada upijam proklijani pigment sunca dok tresem sa sebe hrapavi šećer i bacam preveliku odjeću.

pod travkama mravi nose teret prešućenih riječi

mravi odmaraju u čestoslavicama

mravi ne preskaču ni jedno prokrvljeno srce.

 

 

                                                planina

 od stijena prekrivenih mravima, umiješala je temeljac zemlje bez blata.

s dlanovima njiše balu sijena,

na bali vrijeme zapinje, traži oslonac prije nego ju nogama pokušam pomaknuti.

nailazimo na riječne rakove s jače stidljivim osmjehom.

škiljim kroz modro pero odležano u voćnjaku i lišće malina pobranih u srpnju.

   planina postaje lisica. promatra moju sivu gradsku odjeću i paprat u đepovima. uvučenu radoznalost grije kopitima. usta nam trnu, zelenimo se jedna drugoj iznutra.  

 

 

 

        

 

Palestinska sunčica

 

bljesak zelene i plave u spirali prolivenog neba,

majčine dušice, kaktusi, makovi  

niču sa zvukom raketa

 

umjesto nektara

djetinjstva izviruju pod prekrivačem ruševina

u sjeni onih koji ručaju vatru

 

pokrov dostojanstva kotrlja se niz grudi

niz lijevu pa desnu klijetku srca

 

otvor za zrak, trbuh, tarzus i stopala

sve su to ista meka tkiva

 

padaju usitnjeni komadići perja

umjesto kljunom

premiješta se zubima potrošeni dah

 

glasno pupaju tijela u zemlji

pod košticama datulja

oči traže oslonac

za jezik koji izvlači riječi;

do kada?

 

Palestinian Sunbird

 

A flash of green and blue in the spiral of spilled sky,

wild thyme, poppies, and the dreams of children

sprout to the sound of rockets.

 

 

childhoods emerge beneath a blanket of ruins

 

 

The cloak of dignity rolls down the chest,

down the left and then the right chamber of the heart.

 

An opening for air, the belly, the tarsus, the feet —

all of them are the same soft tissues.

 

Shredded fragments of feathers

fall upon those returning from the border.

 

Instead of by beak,

worn-out breath is moved with teeth.

 

Bodies bud loudly in the earth,

beneath date pits in the shallow dust.

 

Exhausted eyes search for support

for a tongue pulling food for words:

 

until when?

 

 

 

 

ustima trave

 

za travu je tlo u ustima slatko

djeteline i koprive

jedna drugoj

mucanjem

zazivaju kišu

travke me uče da izmaknem uši i serviram bubnjić za lastavice

kažu namjesti se da ti sunce počešlja kosu

glagol porezati se na travke

prestiže liniju na dlanu

dijete pokušava

proklijati

rastaviti

saviti

prorahliti

naslage stvrdnutih tišina

a trave govore

priđi bliže i sve nam reci

 

 

With the Mouths of Grass

 

For the grass, the soil tastes sweet in its mouth —

that sweetness which

I habitually poison my body.

 

Blades of grass grow out of the universe:

clovers, cattails, nettles.

To one another,

through stammering,

they call for rain.

 

At the touch of a pigment’s edge,

the grasses teach me to move my ears aside

and offer up my eardrum to the swallows.

 

They say:

position yourself so the sun can comb your hair.

 

The verb to cut oneself on grass

came before the line in the palm.

 

Half-reclining,

plantain sprouts from my eyes.

 

The child inside me tries

to germinate,

to eat,

to take apart,

to bend,

to loosen

the layers of hardened silences.

 

And the grasses say:

 

come closer

and tell us everything.