Sunday, 4 January 2009


I used to put on my colourful skirt
my purple shoes of spoiled gitana
you used to follow my every breath
and we danced
the song was simple and clear
and our blood scented
with the herbs of the moon
I was the mistress of your feverish bones
you were the lord of my furred whims
long ago
I used to put my dolls to sleep
in your claws
you used to guard my sea of gold
and wash its shores
and time became a feast
our tent of joy
how long ago

if one looked carefully
it was already there,
in some erratic movement of a limb
a broken rhyme, a sorrow rhythm,
the day to come
the dreadful hour
when you stood up
on your back feet
taller than me
your black wrath
sweet beast of memory
and thrust your fangs
into my throat


  1. in some erratic movement of a limb
    a broken rhyme, a sorrow rhythm,

    you write beautifully, drawing me in even when i have no desire to go chase the black beast of memory...

  2. ahh... there it is - my bedsheet - i've been looking all over for it! And what is woman with the funny hair doing with it wrapped up around her?

    am sure there will be more pertinent and erudite comments than mine. i'm just glad to see you posting again!

  3. Nice pics, but I have total shoe-envy right now, those red shoes are gorgeous!

  4. Ah, Roxana -- this is so rich in color and motion, and the movement of the words so perfectly matches the energy of the photos, I gasp!

  5. Manuela, thank you!
    it is good if you can resist chasing it, some of us cannot...

  6. zuma, don't make me laugh :-)
    what is she doing? obviously she is dancing with the dog, there were people who worshipped god in the form of a black dog, have you fogotten this, you, lover of mythologies? :-)

    [I am still puzzled by my yesterday discovery of a blog, whose owner follows the greek polytheistic religion and worships apollo - I had no idea this could be still possible :-)]

  7. I would give anything to see that gasping, James :-)

  8. of course i thought of that. in oscar wilde's words:

    ...but these, thy lovers,are not dead,
    still by the hundred cubit gate
    dog faced anubis sits in state
    with lotus lilies for thy head...

    or even dharma comes to yudishthira as a scrawny black mongrel at the end of the mahabharata....but i dont think you mean that...

  9. Multumesc mult pentru comentariu!
    Locatia este un beci intr-o casa veche de vreo 120 de ani ce urmeaza a se darama...undeva prin Germania :-)
    sa ai parte de inspiratie si avant!

  10. zuma, you are right, I had thought of anubis, I didn't remember this detail in mahabharata. I should re-read it, but oh, there is always so much to read and reread...

  11. Welcome back!

    What happened to the poor little black dog, Roxana? He seemed so peaceful and content in that first picture, but by the time we come to the last one he seems to have been turned into a crazed, ferocious beast!

  12. who says i can resist chasing... even when i have no desire to...

    i like how your comment section holds multiple conversation threads - i get the imagine of you braiding them, each a different color.

  13. thank you, billoo!

    I thought my text was clear enough as to what happened to the black dog :-) and I have never said he was little, no.

  14. Manuela :-)
    I know livejournal has the option of viewing those threads separately, which makes following one particular discussion in the comments much easier. I wonder why blogger didn't think about it.