IOANA IERONIM

Fugue


a few words on the screen
a signal from you
all of me flashes in response
I can see you come
and go
in loops of night phosphorescence

here you are waiting in ambush
storming
again

worlds apart
suspended in a tune
we swallow half of the sentences
we thrust and break lines
in one breath
virtual real virtual virtual real
wieder again iar encore

percussion for word and distance

*

as there is so little time so much space
why waste time and not write poems
directly on your body
as for instance a few lines
in every palm
terzinas on your cheeks
a smiling rondeau on your lips
sonnets on your shoulders
haikus on your breast
…and you whispering
your answers…
then more lines reaching around
willow branches of a pantoum
and a pair of ghazals
as tasseled slippers
written when the moon
is being sifted through leaves

but if such tattoo is too pagan for us
and naïve
as late in history as this
or still as early,
let’s just drape ourselves
and roll in words,
our silk and satin

*

be unconsoled
cry, woman
you say

and I am treading the ground of my pain
as if for the first time

I take handfuls of dust I cover myself with dust
I swallow the poison
that a half empty moon is spilling
from this November sky

be unconsoled and cry, woman,
you say
look things in the face

*

“every book is a vanquished illness”
the Transylvanian poet Lucian Blaga
once said
and our tribe has repeated it
as undisputed truth
ever since

every book a vanquished illness
I was thinking, with all these words
rolled in a tangible papyrus,
but have we forgotten all humility
as to believe it may indeed heal

heal Love and Death
as it were?

*

as atoms split
and split once more
in windy gardens
and find themselves again
and swirl and then break up
and still keep gliding

a timeless dance imprinted in us

so I now find myself
under the force of gravity
of a sentiment
that daily dresses me in
ever changing shapes
without ever asking

*

you have me enchained
you have thrown
knives all around me
as in that old circus act

a few are touching my skin

I do not dare move
I do not have a name for it
to tame

and tame one should nothing
you say
there is nothing to tame

come and set me free
my Lord
come
and melt in me like snow

*

Death, you are on our heels
you beggar of our daily small change
hiding your blade
in your boot under your cloak

I look straight at you
through air made clear after lightning
I look at you
through deadly, poisonous human tears
and keep you far,
murderous beggar
after having learned some of your lessons
once or twice
and come back

I, wrapped in love,
will give you none of my joy

go, just go away
with your bass continuum
that you taught my people -
go away with your kitsch tunes
you who click at us
alluring
castagnettas

*

 
you’ve brought back to myself
the one I was in the beginning –
my self abandoned on the threshold
some time early on

so as to travel light
go less endangered

you have opened a door to lost geographies,
to this inner scape where waters flow
unfathomable
under their clear
deceptive
mirror

*

we keep an eye above the water
the other underneath,
we keep an eye on the horizon
the other under a bird’s wing,

we keep an eye on one another
the other close closed in mute love,
childlike, we roll with laughter
we kiss one another’s auras
and bruised skin
and old scars

Ariadne’s thread hidden
at the core of every thing

one eye lives the other one contemplates
one heart lives the other one contemplates

this hourglass given
by the Fates when they were spinning us –
while their gold and pearl hems were being
torn
unraveled
under the wheel of hard times

we keep an eye above the water
the other in the dim salt beneath,
we keep an eye on the horizon
the other
under a bird’s wing

*

I write my secret on pebbles
every day
and hide them under the skin of the earth

I warm pebbles against my cheek
and I write
three silent words
put them back under the skin of the earth
which becomes as luminous as my body
that sheds its light
even from under the heavy clothes
of this cloudy day
but crowns of birches
above their white trunks and unseen roots
they too return yesterday’s sun
through the delicate gold of their leaves

light has its ways
just beneath surfaces
has duration and speed

light knows little about
our distance on earth

Alina Olimpia Gaci Miron

Ioana Ieronim
 

Fuga

cateva cuvinte pe ecran
un semnal de la tine
toata fiinta mea-ti raspunde in licariri
te vad venind
si plecand
in cercuri nocturne fosforescente

iata-te asteptand in ambuscade
izbucnind
iar

lumi departate
atarnand de-o melodie
inghitim jumatate din propozitii
injunghiem si sfaramam replici
dintr-o suflare
virtual real virtual virtual real
wieder again iar encore

percutie pentru cuvant si distanta

*

cum e asa de putin timp si atat de mult spatiu
de ce sa pierzi timpul si sa nu scrii poezii
direct pe corpul tau
ca de exemplu cateva randuri
in fiecare palma
tertine pe obrajii tai
un rondel zambitor pe buzele tale
haikuri pe sanul tau
…si tu soptind
raspunsurile tale…
apoi mai multe randuri ajungand
la ramurile de salcie ale unui pantum
-si o pereche de gazeluri
ca niste papuci cu franjuri
scrise cand luna
e cernuta prin frunze

dar daca un asemenea tatuaj este prea pagan pentru noi
si prea naiv
asa tarziu in istorie ca acum
sau totusi asa devreme
haideti sa ne impodobim
si sa ne rostogolim in cuvinte,
matasea si satinul nostru

*

nu te consola
plangi, femeie
imi spui

si pasesc pamantul chinului meu
ca si cum ar fi pentru prima data

iau maini intregi de praf, cu care ma acopar
inghit otrava
pe care o semiluna goala o varsa
din acest cer de noiembrie

nu te consola si plangi, femeie,
imi spui
si confrunta-te cu lucrurile

*

“fiecare carte este o boala invinsa”
spunea odat’
poetul transilvanean Lucian Blaga
si tribul nostrum a repetat-o
ca pe-un adevar de necontestat
de atunci

fiecare carte este o boala invinsa
ma gandeam, cu toate acele cuvinte
rulate intr-un papirus palpabil,
dar oare uitat-am a crede ca orice umilinta
poate cu adevarat vindeca

adica, vindeca
Iubirea si Moartea?

*

precum atomii se despart
si o fac inca o data
in gradini batute de vant
si se regasesc
si se rotesc in vartej si apoi se sfarma
si tot aluneca

un dans etern intiparit in noi insine

asa ca acum ma gasesc
sub forta gravitationala
a unui sentiment
ce zilnic ma imbraca
in forme nesfarsit de schimbatoare
fara macar a intreba vreodata

*

m-ai inlantuit
si-ai aruncat
cutite in jurul meu
ca-n acel act vechi de circ

cateva-mi ating pielea

nu-ndraznesc sa ma misc
nu-I gasesc un nume
ca sa-l imblanzesc

nimic n-ar trebui imblanzit
spui tu
nu-I nimic de imblanzit

vino si elibereaza-ma
Domnul meu
vino
si te topeste-n mine precum neaua

*

Moarte, esti pe urmele noastre
cersesti maruntis zilnic
ascunzandu-ti lama
in cizma ta de sub haina

ma uit drept la tine
prin aerul rarefiat dupa fulger
ma uit la tine
prin lacrimi umane fatale si otravitoare
si te tin deoparte,
cersetor criminal
dupa ce ti-ai invatat cateva lectii
data sau de doua ori
si te intorci

eu, infasurat in dragoste,
nu-ti voi oferi nici un pic din bucuria mea

du-te, pleaca numai
cu continuum-ul tau de bas
cu care i-ai invatat pe ai mei-
pleaca odat’ cu melodiile tale kitsch
tu care arunci in noi
castaniete
ademenitoare

*

m-ai adus inapoi mie
insami cum eram la inceputuri-
sinele meu parasit in prag
undeva la inceput

ca sa calatoresc cu usurinta
sa fiu mai putin in pericol pe drum

ai deschis o usa spre geografii pierdute,
catre aceasta radacina launtrica unde apele curg
de nepatruns
sub oglinda lor
clara
si inselatoare

*

tinem ochii deasupra apei
celalalt fiind in adancuri,
privim spre orizont
celalalt fiind sub aripa unei pasari,

stam cu ochii unul pe celalalt
celalalt incatusat in dragoste tacuta,
ca un copil, ne rostogolim razand
ne sarutam aura unui celuilalt
si pielea zgariata
si cicatricele vechi

Firul Ariadnei ascuns
in miezul a tot si toate

un ochi traieste celalalt contempla
inima traieste cealalta contempla

aceasta clepsidra data
de catre Ursitoare cand ne invarteau-
in timp ce firele lor aurii si perlate erau
destramate
dezlegate
sub roata vremurilor grele

tinem ochii deasupra apei
celalalt fiind in sarea obscura din adanc,
privim spre orizont
celalalt fiind
sub aripa unei pasari

*

Imi scriu secretele in pietricele
in fiecare zi
si le ascund sub invelisul pamantului

incalzesc pietricelele la obrazul meu
si scriu
trei cuvinte mute
le pun inapoi sub invelisul pamantului
care devine la fel de luminous precum corpul meu
ce-si revarsa lumina
chiar si de sub hainele grele
ale acestei zile innorate
-dar cununi de mesteacan
deasupra trunchiurilor albe si radacinilor nevazute
si ele readuc soarele de ieri
orin auriul delicat at frunzelor lor

lumina-si are caile sale
chiar deasupra suprafetelor
are durata si viteza

lumina stie prea putine
despre distanta noastra pe pamant