Fetei cu ochi marini (haicuzamo)

Am chef sa povestesc un moment care mi-a placut. Ar fi prea pretentios sa-i spun poezie, haiku n-are sanse sa fie, dar parca nici articol sau eseu nu-i pot zice. Am sa-i spun haicuzamo.

Trandavesc in tandretea insorita a vinului sicilian sub capul tau usor aplecat, cu pletele adiind de parca m-as lafai intr-un lan de porumb cu matasea stiuletilor despletiti (in)cantandu-mi sprancenele. Tu imi mangai teasta neteda in timp ce radio-canada ingana chansonettes, jazz si big orchestra iar soarele-stalker se strecoara printre jaluzele comentand fara permisiune in jurnalul meu existential. Privesc in sus in ochii tai si ii ca si cum duc la ureche o cochilie uriasa si valurile marii ma stropesc cu miros de alge. Biloiul meu cel mare trimite semnale prin portile cetatii tale catre ochii tai ce devin din ce in ce mai umbrosi. Portile sunt stramte si modifica semnalul dupa Deep Packet Inspection deviindu-l cand am ochii inchisi catre buze, care imi fura un sarut. Imi zici ca sunt mare mester la cuvinte desi tac, lasand scoicile sa tipe si incep sa ma tem cum stau cu capu-n poala ta ca voi raci la el de atata umezeala.

I’m lounging in the sunny tenderness of Sicilian wine under your slightly inclined head, with your tresses breezing slightly as if I’m sprawling in a cornfield maize with undone, loose silk s(w)inging my eyebrows. You’re rubbing my smooth skull while radio-canada whispers chansonettes, jazz and big band and the stalking sun tiptoes through the blinds commenting without permission in my existential journal. I look up in your eyes and it’s like I take a giant shell to my ear and the foamy waves spray me with the smell of seaweed. My big basketball sends signals through the gates of your fortress toward your eyes which become increasingly shadowy. The gates are tight and modify the signal following Deep Packet Inspection deviating it when I have my eyes closed toward the lips, which steal a kiss from me. You tell me that I’m a great word master although I keep silent, letting the shells speak and I begin to fear as I lay my head on your lap that I might catch a cold from so much moisture.

Surse / More info: Gary-Le film, DPI

zamo,haicu,poezie,poesis,haicuzamo