Contemporary poets from Basarabia 



I’m curled up on poetry like a dog on
the warm cover of a heat pipe and
I’m waiting desperate in my pleasure for when you
bring me a bone from the bone of your
pleasure on the plate of colored foil

        this pu
this puddle in the comparative mood beautiful in terms
of an unknown etymon generates syntagmas from out
of a famous symphonic canvas in the vowel’s shadow closed into
itself the complete hermeneutic derives from the abbreviation of one
eternal thought postponed etcetera etcetera etcetera et stop

you’re quite comfortable in your eggshell universe polluted by
the permanence of eternal regeneration resolutely remaining yourself then
you’ve only to live out the monumental limits
the risk of being charged with magic doesn’t come from
your translation into ass but the contrary

        a hung-over
hung-over proprietor of a beer joint waiting for
a post festum throng throng
throng in quest of a match to make
speculative a universal cataclysm I won’t give a kingdom
I benefit from the fool whose smoke I smoke tautologically the
smoke of a camel during my lament a heartrending explication
the puff of a snagov with or without concomitant
I long for a place on my writing desk between the quotation marks
of what shatters your time with a few documents in do
mino(r) where I’m cast out with con tempt I don’t fit in and so
lose an entire existential poem for a
while I’ve got no choice and I’m obliged to mecum
porto absolut my omnia like some unsatisfied
physiological necessity time goes by me this poem
needs be written mademoiselles and madams how lousy he is at
existential poems the spring it occurs to me to
leave behind all of poetry’s disinterestedness

        what are you writing
what are you writing a composition about nature my
littlest girl asks me yes I answer her and it occurs to me to
occurs occurs occurs occurs occurs occurs occurs to me to laugh

        epi logue
I pick up the suitcase of my words and set forth
reading myself having boarded a jam-packed trolley to
feel people’s bodies epilogue if the world I
live in is my imaginative creation what you’ve got to
know is I’ve a lousy imagination