Urban Hermit / L’Eremita urbano / Pustnicul urban

valeriu dg barbu

trilingual tas an empty plastic purse, drifting through electrified masts…and

concrete fake trees
like a cloud quickly, above the factories’ ruins
as a forgotten promise
as a seduction – inherent, followed by an abandonment
– I dare to breathe

the steam of pubs, smoke of ovens – are watertight…
the steam from the sighs of elders, masters of patience, and of sad children born
the steam of piping and of the kisses given in hasty tram stations
– Something I raise, forced; I levitate and fall, levitate and fall…
perhaps, we are like drops of rain, somewhat invisible, but, we push each other
to get a square of asphalt

nobody knows me
nobody knows me, man
nobody knows me, man, alive
– In this desert, crowded with passers-by, I am the Urban Hermit
Recently I started to say “sorry” at pillars, when hitting them with my shoulder
I began…

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