ALICE VENIR BUCURESTI AUTUMN 2016.
I dedicate this zine to Nico.
Morning 10 am
Morning, 10 am, the park is a park in autumn We go to see the squirrels They’re so big, gigantic, not european ones These ones, they do no fear men. I have a scarf but you don’t, Cause I am always colder than you. Once the squirrel watching is done “let’s go, let’s have a coffee”.
-I went to this play, it was great. -oh yes? -Yes, I’ll tell you about it. You talk and I look but not listen while I think of how much more real your smell is, rather than your voice. And the recipe for the cauliflower soup. You talk so slow and I think “I’d better cool coconut milk”.
I am watching this doing the karaoke.
The movie is Lost in Translation. I think of sending it to you, cause we both share this ironic obsession for him and his tangible boredom. But then I think youâ€™re now sleeping and youâ€™re tired and sad and out of reach And what do you care about my little life made of youtube videos and high socks Where my favourite cauliflower.
Nipples White noise bad vibes high hopes In a small notebook in a big garden Can you see my nipples through the t-shirt? Can you see them through the screen? Hold your tongue hold your hard-on hold your breath for this For these big nipples small tits Small notebook big garden White noise bad vibes high hopes low profile slow life.
Is this enough honey for your tea? Two spoons, on the verge of overdoing it. Your smell is the same of two years ago When I kidnapped your scarf And imagined you so radically Different than this. I take one spoon and a half.
I got new music for this walk And my mood is other But not too other From the first weeks of school Ten years ago. I stop to look at a construction site with no workers, Where two cats are sleeping on a pile of bricks. Here comes a track I donâ€™t like, I am glad that this at least I can skip.
Imagine you have a big glass Full of juice. A huge glass, Like a small lake. And you drink with a straw, Overlooking above, like
An elephant or an helicopter or a butterfly, or someone drinking with a straw. Do you think we could ever make love like this?
At the Crossroad
I am waiting for Jasmina Eating plums, small and ripe, at the street corner. A man stands by me, he waits too, in his awkward shoes. I like him shoelaces.
-Hey do you want a plum too? -Yes. He smiles. When I leave we donâ€™t say bye.
Obsession I am obsessed by leaves As if for the first time Realising How ubiquitous they are How every-fucking-where they Stand in a flock, in a storm, in a messy huge choir Trembling, vibrating For my eyes to see.
Seasonal zine of poetry and illustration Bucharest Autumn 2016