Blesok no. 25, March-April, 2002

(From the book "Multiplying of the Word")

Vera Čejkovska


asbestos sky       and a fiery shoe
in the dunghill by the parking lot: sun:
a fine the bleak day fines the eye-balls with
and the nearest ashen facade at
Sight nibbles    gnaws at the eye


deaf sky    and rose-buds in
the clay beginning: limp
brain…    down to the Lips,
crimson cramps of the grey

concrete walls, above the leaves…


barren trees    and birds’
skeletons         flattened
stepping upward    descending…
the topmost stroke of silence
the first stair…

The Box

the clock’s metal hands wear out the numbers
but its algebra renews itself
its algebra becomes a fugue
I put the nibbled pearls in the jewelry box
the broken bangles      the severed necklaces.
The candles make the marble figurines
and the curtains dance:

     Once upon a time
     the universe was an infinite void

Winter Budding

multi-angled sky.
     a new fable inscribed in the windows.
     new foliage growing into super-thin

     fragile frail frame:    my house


when the indigo screen appears
A glass of milk spills over it into a new Milky Way.
like a fairy’s lymph     an oil slick
over your flesh
tender and gentle
like a tame Zoroastrian cow
Light mercurial dew trickled from the branches
over my hair. And the pastures became emerald green
delicate nets of possibilities
When I burrowed into my dream
the soft tissue throbbed
above a pink mist     over the silk cushions


the pattern of the stars expanding

     in the reflection of my nails

        and into your eyes

your black windows, 1001 tail-coats    

     stripping me naked

as if
I were stealing a cherry from the Garden

The Fall of Paradise

my eyes in love with and glued to
the brown celestial branch on the TV screen.

I wear the white silk
why do you throw me a handful of rotten cherries

             like seeds of Great Oblivion


I raised the mirror and saw it grown old.
dark spots. diminutives of the huge cosmic
and you
you love the Milky Way. your
voluptuous potion stretching like a scattered
alchemical rapture.

and the bliss
multiplies        like harmony
yearning for another
               which is less so


dreams spilling.

I let a fresh landscape flow   through enamel
gutters    like evil blood through the veins
of the world.             then
I recover it again. like a face plated in silver,
like violet veils covering teary eyes,    like

soft skin defying darkness.

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