POEME ROMÂNESTI ÎN LIMBI STRĂINE
Gabriela PACHIA
The Cogged Wart
The checked, mismatched ashen wart,
double crossed – once in green venom,
once more in the mirage of anaesthesia,
seropositive ballast linked to hegemony pustules,
car jack and hearse for the jugular, for charts,
chronometers, a chancre ankylosed by hermitage –
the cave is sacred, pink-acrid imponderable clepsydra –,
moulds grown along the stammering infinity,
the lips of the chaff and draff weeper, mollycoddle,
mating wolframs, soaked with hexanes,
yeasting dregs in whimsical malaxators,
with poste restante, a sagacious rhododendron,
holds the pricky leash for imperial syllables,
varnishes the illusions of ingenuous slings,
perverts the perspective with three vanishing points...
Away, polemic wart, July-August dissident,
42 Zoo Strasse, indenturing for yet unborn ages!
May the swallowwort sulphur corrode you,
may the barren shadow-trimmed hat browse you,
may the snapdragon’s thriftiness spare you,
may the purple lousewort betray your tinder!
And who would battle for a synergetic paraplegic wart,
Guinipeg, Guinipeg, Guiniguinipeg snort…?
Green Leaf and Terzetto Moon
Green leaf and moon stone,
our dreams entwined by a matchless metronome,
twenty-seven and lady fern in overthrowing foam,
rushing her kindling belladonna fathom trawl...
Off with you, terzetto late moon call...!
Green leaf and whopper blade,
you stepped on the world’s blatant tempest trade,
on the mercenary zigzag of the clay charade,
on the bamboozling hybrid of the infinitude cavalcade...
Shoo, hormone of unforedoomed mermaid...!
Green leaf and saline lily,
you bathed in lustrous celestial silk zestily,
vainglorious grand wormwood rhizome, shooting lacily,
hooked by a slushy ronsardin mannequin, gaudily...
Squelch, dizzy drippy lily...!
Green leaf and bubbling day,
entrapped by the ignition head and collared thoughts in dismay,
a clover lured by the scheming scythe, on devious way,
a verse line nipped by angst and cast away...
Cut off, presbytic scythe...!
Green leaf and bubbling day,
entrapped by the ignition head and collared thoughts in dismay,
a clover lured by the scheming scythe, on devious way,
a verse line nipped by angst and cast away...
Cut off, presbytic scythe...!
