Tag Archives: Victor Macrinici

Time

Fierce chaps shun dull streets, help the buildings rise, break sky while young blood surges in its glory. Reap the singing rain, reap the mountainous moon and the great parade. Watch the light glisten, whisper. Old chaps read gray books, … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

This is Not a Pipe

It is an old rug, whose pages tremor when shook wildly by wild men in their creed that shook the Romans from their domes of gold; but still, their palaces still stand afloat, in pages and in earth; They, too, … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Torpor

The torpor of unlearning all I learned and more, now that it proved itself idle-ruled, and now birds on a sprig – the newest generation – flock with the sense of rebirth, life, death. All is swept ritually to grimy … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Let Me Gather the Pieces

All happiness is your own, all sadness, too. The gifts received when you were born are yours to keep; they are for you. Grief for your hair’s changing hue is like water falling in a storm. You are no stranger … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Letters

The Post Office sends letters like bullets flying to their target or glances flung by uninterested parties who care to send a message so concise it sears as hot as ice scraping against ice, which would be fine but for … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment