3 poems in 'Superpresent magazine'

published in the Winter Issue of Superpresent magazine, 2021


one cloudy afternoon

this city was crying from within me

the closer I get the colder it gets

my lungs, my lungs

my stomach couldn’t stand it

couldn’t bear the longing

the night is thick and the lights are rare

I no longer perceive space

this city can touch me

this city can banish me

the memory of you, the memory of you

the only memory I treat as luxury

my God, the past nourishes me

with tenderness

I close my eyes, the city is gone

half asleep, in an unphysical space now

you suddenly look up and recognize me


Checklist (sometime soon)

Recently I

slept inside Chopin’s nocturnes

shortly fantasized about you

crossed the city several times

caught every bus on time

thought of my ex for 3 seconds everyday

took a taxi two times

watched two live performances

lit candles in the cathedral

thought that I need to be a little more sad 

to write poetry

didn’t touch myself 

(not once, 

my body’s a stranger)

smoked a little too much

helped a beggar with

a little too much money

cleaned the house

texted everyone back on time

lit candles on the balcony after buying

yellow roses in the supermarket

slept naked

coldly thought that I want to fall in love

for real

didn’t feel impatient

didn’t feel hungry for sex

didn’t feel disgusted by sex

didn’t drink enough wine

didn’t break any glass or plate or vase

prayed without praying

prayed by praying

lost some weight


didn’t worry about the future

didn’t worry about the past

got disconnected from my own memory

lived on my own

(lived alone)

spent money wisely





walked the streets of the city

locked the door six times every night

killed a beetle

fed the pigeons

remade my coffee when it wasn’t tasty enough

ticked everything on the list

set alarms

said goodnight to him

(and to you)

thought this (I mean that) might be my first masterpiece

fell asleep

woke up

felt life had meaning

played Chopin again

thought of no one in particular

felt young

felt immortal

didn’t feel afraid of death

or of getting old

thought I need to fall in love

not right now

a little later

sometime soon.

Afternoons under the earth

What am I doing with these afternoons that refused to die?

What am I doing with the longing that couldn’t be tamed,

With my resigned pride, with all this salt and water?

For so long I lived

In the safety of my

Aristocratic contempt.

Unexpectedly, my heart opened

Everything I’d tried to crush

Pushed the walls of my heart

With the delicate power with which

Nature springs up through cement

And opened her gently and then all at once.

I burst; I hadn’t known these afternoons

Were kindly asking to take another deep breath

Before returning under the earth.


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