PRIMORDIAL

Flowing from a gigantic eye,
the beginning tear,
The ghostly universe lies
extinguished in transparency,
the globular form falls
through a designed space
of infernal thinking
of penetration into the essence.

I WILL DECONCRETIZE

I was beyond imagination.

New forms
under the lighting
same spectrum,
they gathered us into each other.

I had left it behind
the truth until then;
the concrete no longer lingered with us
and so on
size disappears
leaving us
Wanderers of Eternity.

BURDEN

We were slaves to the unseen harmony.

Clothe yourself in light
carried in golden litters,
mirror with endless faces,
knowledge of all worlds,
and the gap of the pass
from one side to another.

burdens
they were bending over us
beyond the edge of time.

EXCUGATION

Motto:
"A philosopher said this: I think, therefore I exist.
Does it follow that I exist, since I think?
The philosopher therefore had no idea what life is and what non-life is.
I can say: I think therefore I do not exist. Or otherwise: I exist, I don't exist, I keep thinking.”
Victor Kernbach (The secret holidays)

I knew you were in this field
blossomed by your eye,
demon returned from the plateau of mysteries,
bathed in the flow of time
like lightning in a
sea ​​of ​​plasma.

I knew you existed beyond form
in the bundle of waves
magically illuminated by the gerbils of the spectrum
cast upon the being of the world
abstract, attractive,
enslaving.

I knew I would meet you
along with the myth of the traveler,
I, transient through form,
through the spaces, the worlds forever
of this continuous becoming
colorful and sad.

I always knew you existed
beyond the desolate appearance
through which I was traveling alone,
like light
spilled over all that can be,
over everything that was, over everything that is.

DISAPPEAR AT THE SAME TIME

Almost transparent
under a chosen light
we passed bound to each other
with endless threads.

Eyes turned on us
they roamed the cosmos of flesh.

Hatred of outsiders
it didn't reach here
and the silence was complete.
our blood
chlorophyll turned red
carry the sap of the earth through us,
Space Wanderers.

The Eternals demanded of us.

We would have liked to linger,
we wanted to leave a mark.

The Eternals demanded of us.

At least let's go together.

I TRIED KNOWLEDGE

You were beyond
transparent green.
I crossed my eyes
through the circle
and i met you
I'm done not knowing you
with this body.
Lately I knew it was you.
riches
they were with us every other day.
They had to be inventoried
and during this time
I had a mission
from a we divide
and to study
in the form of population
this area.

We were gifted
with attraction
but I had the wrong time
with very little
thinking we met
somewhere in the past.

UNDERSTANDING

Clay score monitor
I had found you in a part of the planet.

through your mouth
the dust was becoming
antigravity
pushed by your lungs
to the burnt air
of unknown elements.
I had found you
even though I had lost my eyes
in the dry valley.
Pure space allowed us to meet at any time.

My thoughts and
your thoughts
they were becoming a beaten carpet
across the dry valley bridge.

The gold, the sparkles
illuminated this meeting and
if we were tight
matter in steps,
we would have been treading heavily
over the woven carpet
by our thoughts and
littered across the dry valley deck.

UNDER THIS GAME

The air was too little for us.

The punishment we were trapped in
it had been given to us for life.
I couldn't do the pardon papers
the nerves of the hands would have died,
under this game
in which
our bodies were also melting.

The meeting was not given
in the place where I could penetrate
without bodies.

Our fusion
it will be triumphant.

Forever mixing in others
we can be together

We would have liked the size here,
during this time be,
instead of this planet,
in meat with this structure.

THE DEATH OF THE LIGHT

I die.
I bury myself under your eyelid
in the saddest grave
what ever was in the world.

And God will know
that his Universe
the procession of light and love,
collapsed, captive forever,
in the eye of a Nomad Prince
sent by the shadow of the night to crush the Light.

I die in your eye
to rekindle a desolating fire,
when you open your eyelid.

And God will know
that he lost himself
and His brightness,
when he let me die
in the eye of a Nomad Prince
sent by the shadow of the night to crush the Light.

I pass into nothingness
being your gaze of flame
what-trying to scorch the world.

And God will know
that I, His Light
I turned into fire
losing my immortality
in the eye of a Nomad Prince
sent by the shadow of the night to crush the Light.

RESORPTION

The planet is slowly swallowing me
and silver beaks
I keep my parties around.

The dark sphere
resorbs in the viscera
the plagues in me.

I'm trying to stay
to be able to think of you
when I will have a mortal body
when I live by blood
to imagine
that we are another wave
to forget about my soft flesh
of fecund stigma.

The planet is slowly swallowing me.

The 10 poems presented here are part of the volume The abode of the avatars (Editura TORNADA, 2014) Important parts of this volume come from my literary past. I once tried to publish my poems in volumes. Although they were appreciated, even praised — and I give as an example the practice of university professor Marioara GODEANU, one of the most important researchers in the field of biology in our country, who started and ended her classes with my poems — I did not succeed before 1989. All I was able to do was to publish a series of plaques in Luceafărul magazine (starting with 1983), thanks to my soul brother, the poet and maestro Cezar IVĂNESCU and his creation, Cenaclul Numime Poetului, of which I am a member former.

Why did this happen?

Because I wasn't writing poetry "for the country and the regime," according to some editors. The revolution of 1989 found me with the volume of poems Tornado game ready. I had recommendations from the secretary of the "George Călinescu" Literary Cenacle of the Romanian Academy, the writer Ion Potopin, to the Cartea Românească publishing house, from the secretary of the Writers' Union, Ion Hobana, and the Albatros publishing house was preparing to publish a SF anthology in which it was going to publish a part of my volume. One of the editors there was telling me that my poetry was special, that it was unlike any other style of poetry, and that the only solution would be to agree to publish under the SF label.

It is true that in 1987, in the Politehnic Institute of Bucharest, I had founded the StrING Hall, in which I was active in a philosophical, scientific and literary dialogue group with sci-fi tendencies. The desire to create an ideal from "knowledge" and to try "a cultural renaissance" constituted for the group the meaning of establishing the cenacle, which we named StrING after "String Theory" (string theory), being fascinated by the possibilities of this theories to hold that the Universe has ten or twenty-six dimensions and that "everything" is "vibration". In the literary section of the cenacle, the works created by "stringists" were read and criticized, many of them elaborated under the impression of previous scientific meetings. Among the regular participants were writers Ion Hobana, Romulus Bărbulescu and George Anania, Mihai Grămescu, professor Dolphi Drimer, physicist Mircea Rusu, researcher Florin Munteanu, students from philology and other Bucharest faculties.

The revolution found the cenacle by posing the problem of publishing his works, as a result of which, in the summer of 1990, I managed to print the first issue of the magazine STRING — magazine of prospective science and science fiction, which by the year 2000 had reached number twenty. All this activity, together with my participation in the meetings of the Interdisciplinary Study Group of the Romanian Committee for the History and Philosophy of Science and Technology (CRIFST) of the Romanian Academy, led by the academician Mihai Drăgănescu, with the experiences and discussions with Marioara Godeanu or with many other people from science, writers or philosophers, were the sources of my poetry.

I made my debut at the invitation of the writer Adrian Rogoz, on March 22, 1987, in a meeting of the Cenacle of the Writers' Union, and in the same spring I also obtained a literary prize at the LUCIAN BLAGA Festival, organized in the city of Sebeș. In the autumn of the same year, at the National Conference of Anticipation Councils, Craiova, I won the prize for poetry awarded by the Union of Writers and the magazine Ramuri and a mention for fine art. But the great gain of my participation in this conference was the meeting with the writer Victor Kernbach, one of the most fascinating people I have met in my life and together with whom I had decided to visit Constantin NOICA. This never happened again... on the day we were supposed to leave for Sibiu, December 4, 1987, Noica left for the Eternal Universe.

After the revolution, I published a book of poetry in English, The Fall in Form (1993), and several pamphlets in French and German (1992). I have published in String, Quasar, Eucronia, etc. Now we have websites: Agonia, Centrul String, Facebook... I have published two volumes of poetry: The abode of the avatars (TORNADA Publishing House, 2014) and HOBBIES (TORNADA Publishing House, 2015). I am preparing the volume Hand in hand with Persephone.