When I was a little boy, I used to run up to the end of the earthen road and run back homeward; in my hand an open-lipped astonished fig berry, a few apricot stones and some body-scars. At those days, I was the owner of a small decorated time, which I used to stretch up to day ends, wrap at evening around my fingers, and hide at night under my cushion, which was stuffed with bran and fantasies.
But, when I went into fables, wherewith everything I touch turns to gold and diamond, and my pockets overflow with hard currency and my eyes with flashes, then my small time dropped down and smashed to pieces.
I am looking for somebody to weld my small time’s fragments. Here, I am concealing my hands into my pockets. That is because I’m worried; if I touch the air, it might become a diamond cage. If I hug my mother, her hymns might become noisy needles. If I touch our rose, just two blossoms older than me, its fragrance might turn to golden thorns into my throat.
I am 58 years old, from eastern Galilee, Israel (Palestine). I studied English literature, psychology and Law at the Hebrew university (Jerusalem). In the last three years, I published three books of which is dedicated to prose poetry. You are invited to visit the Facebook page Shadows of Water, where I publish my prose poems I translate to English.
This road trip to moon will not end through the shards of shattered, small prints of sleep. A ravaged nest lived behind tomorrow in necklace of past apologies. Hanging by fan was ending of today. We talked of dirty nights
I see a place with starless skies. I see a dark smooth world endlessly a float in the black, its star long since blinked out. Covered with small closely spaced geodesic domes. Geodesic domes all interconnected, all with conduits leading
I write beautiful poems in my quiet times, Sign that the universe delivers in silence – Great inspirations about love and crimes – With a poetic virtuoso ,I build my intelligence- Which I use to extract imaginative awareness- For the