Bogdan Puslenghea
from The surface of the siren in / seven steep steps
C
hover indiscrete
clenching
my sentences from
sordid margins
upon the specters in the street
i tear the thousand species of retreat
i toss and twist the fables indistinct.
perverted with humanity, diminished
swaddled with city thorns -
i try to keep some dignity,
some pose
i grope precisely deep in fantasy,
distort reproaches of divinity
with pampered whimpers
of new Dawn.
it’s
between me(n)
& other creatures
of flesh
F
onward &
onward
when your dreams make sense
you are a survivor
rock me down with it
step off
the it men quit
kinky edges
Incidence &Co
G
I stumble
upon
a piece
of
moon
in
a
pond
I,
the graced
worm
muddening the sky
D
this damp rush
this deep useless vision
our children are old
while we are unborn
while we change directions
like young trees
happily in love with the wind
bathing faintless in
the dreams of light
holding the momentary truth
stop this rush
stop reality
A
by the blessed water
into the sacred fire, down
to the root
with the precision of
superstition
I climb a mountain /
high
G
No I mean
               Yes
the stylized horrors of war dreamt
in a sanatorium in a dream from which
wake up and outside is snowing in March
the woman with nougat nipples spread all over the sheets
Bogdan Puslenghea is from Timisoara. His work has appeared in Otoliths, Truck, and Caliban online.
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from The surface of the siren in / seven steep steps
C
hover indiscrete
clenching
my sentences from
sordid margins
upon the specters in the street
i tear the thousand species of retreat
i toss and twist the fables indistinct.
perverted with humanity, diminished
swaddled with city thorns -
i try to keep some dignity,
some pose
i grope precisely deep in fantasy,
distort reproaches of divinity
with pampered whimpers
of new Dawn.
it’s
between me(n)
& other creatures
of flesh
F
onward &
onward
when your dreams make sense
you are a survivor
rock me down with it
step off
the it men quit
kinky edges
Incidence &Co
G
I stumble
upon
a piece
of
moon
in
a
pond
I,
the graced
worm
muddening the sky
D
this damp rush
this deep useless vision
our children are old
while we are unborn
while we change directions
like young trees
happily in love with the wind
bathing faintless in
the dreams of light
holding the momentary truth
stop this rush
stop reality
A
by the blessed water
into the sacred fire, down
to the root
with the precision of
superstition
I climb a mountain /
high
G
No I mean
               Yes
the stylized horrors of war dreamt
in a sanatorium in a dream from which
wake up and outside is snowing in March
the woman with nougat nipples spread all over the sheets
Bogdan Puslenghea is from Timisoara. His work has appeared in Otoliths, Truck, and Caliban online.