{"id":2691,"date":"2010-01-18T10:00:35","date_gmt":"2010-01-18T08:00:35","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/egophobia.ro\/?p=2691"},"modified":"2010-01-26T02:26:45","modified_gmt":"2010-01-26T00:26:45","slug":"english-poems","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/?p=2691","title":{"rendered":"English Poems"},"content":{"rendered":"

by Gene Tanta [USA]<\/p>\n

pentru versiunea rom\u00e2n\u0103 a acestui text click aici<\/strong><\/a><\/em><\/p>\n

Back in Romania, I knew a gypsy boy named God who carved words in his inner thigh<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\n

Back in Romania, I knew a gypsy boy named God who carved words in his inner thigh
\nwith barbed wire teeth as he ran from the securitate<\/em>. God\u2019s gypsy mother
\nwould shiver and tell our fortune after black coffee. She would read the grainy residue
\nand tell us how tender the devil\u2019s foot felt to touch, tho invisible
\nto our eyes. Off the clock, she would sigh to herself about how much smarter
\nand more handsome her son was than other sons. Once,
\nmy father\u00a0accidentally stepped on the foot of an invisible devil. God\u2019s mother was not shy.
\nShe cried the devil\u2019s part. After hours, the gypsy woman slept
\nin our dim dinning room lit by the streetlight\u2019s beam
\npunched odd by the curtains. The moonlight is not worth mentioning.
\nShe changed right in front of us, wiggling her wrinkly breasts for us
\nto giggle at. She kissed the head of my penis. I remember wanting to urinate in her mouth. But how could I?<\/p>\n

The Story of the Crow<\/strong>\u00a0<\/p>\n

A young crow is bathing in a pool late around eleven. It was summertime and late and everybody was eating green onions from their gardens but the little crow grew lonesome. So lonesome, in fact, that she started to sing to feel less alone. This way, the sound of her voice was a kind of whistling in the dark when she would lift her head to gaze upon the grand nothing (which looked puny from so far away).<\/p>\n

Someone stole the young crow\u2019s candy and from this day on she flies and caws as loud as she can: \u201cTaking into account that my candy isn\u2019t a joke, but has tragic elements to taste.\u201d The crow said this with her out of body voice stuffing the sounds in the large ear of what surrounds. This much holds, this much remains.<\/p>\n

Yo mama\u2019s got one glass eye and a lightning rod out of habit. \u201cMy miracle work cannot be weighed upon a scale, comrade Linguini Marinara,\u201d intoned the old crow.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u201cKiss them for me and tell them my longing for chlorine-free water grows stronger with each passing day,\u201d said the young crow over her shoulder.\u00a0<\/p>\n

Because armament leads us to docility, our business affairs necessitate that we shake hands with the officer shooting in the road. Further down the footpath a spell, the crow shuts its mouth and starts a tiny fire by winking at us with its glass eye (recently chipped by a local boy with a slingshot who no longer jaunts the way he once did).<\/p>\n

This field is rich in worms and other details. Whatever makes a sound can be swallowed, if we are to trust a fox like you. Every now and again, the army shoots in the air over our heads. We have shields and a state. The crow shakes herself vigorously in the black pool.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n

A Handsome Raccoon<\/strong><\/p>\n

Plain-spoken said nothing. Plain-spoken turned a blind eye and a deaf ear to our failed crops and veteran migraines. Plain-spoken pointed up, citing utter exhaustion due in large part to the upstairs herbivores. Deciduous turned crimson with rust. Deciduous steeled herself against the gawkers and their existential ruminations behind brown hibiscus. Deciduous laminated every gasoline memory and frying pan she could after the economic collapse finally capsize her eggs. Fickle turtled its head and mocked the rest of us with melon breath. Fickle blinded herself on accident. Fickle blamed everyone but herself with the pin hammer residing in her hand, abiding by the laws of November. Melancholia decided to burn all her bras from yesterday\u2019s closets. Melancholia fingered one of the silent arsonists because of the stigma associated with gang rape. Melancholia recharged her body parts with the electrodes of suspense and barbarity. Fear never looked back, going the wrong way down a one way alleyway. Fear cost us dearly. Fear swallowed hard. Fastidious collie allowed fire to ring around in her dark pupils. Fastidious collie lined us up against the brick wall of nighttime and shot us full of mercy. Fastidious collie climbed the wood hanger without trouble but the flames had already shown in her eyes. Hunger flung herself at the crowd bare-chested and free. Hunger swept the shards after the party when all the light bulb could do was remembered its faint reflection. Hunger bungled the job with its hairy back. Longing demanded lasting results. Longing terminated its lease before the melons softened in the fruit-bowl. Longing brought its friends along but a handsome raccoon had eaten all the pizza.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

by Gene Tanta [USA] pentru versiunea rom\u00e2n\u0103 a acestui text click aici Back in Romania, I knew a gypsy boy named God who carved words in his inner thigh\u00a0 Back in Romania, I knew a gypsy boy named God who carved words in his inner thigh with barbed wire teeth as he ran from the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[436,22],"tags":[1145,1123,459,1116],"class_list":["post-2691","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-egophobia-25","category-short-story","tag-egophobia-25","tag-english","tag-gene-tanta","tag-short-story"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6DakB-Hp","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2691","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2691"}],"version-history":[{"count":33,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2691\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2975,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2691\/revisions\/2975"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2691"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2691"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2691"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}