Posted by: Jussara



at the edge there is nothing but

music (we don’t

know whether it’s a local
fly or an infinite

In order to reveal itself to us
the music must talk
with itself alone.

It hovers and crosses over
the continent of the table over

the mounds of bread, orchards of parsley, furrows of celery
wine valley and cascades of honey.

And if the measure is filled with joy, we know
there is nothing greater than this

(Israel Eliraz)




speaking of a thirst that grows stronger
until I can’t imagine
it anymore except

as the real thing which can’t
be other than itself.

Beyond the kitchen wall, over there, in the world
things happen that are

the strong material reality woven of wild
lines, which are a sort of
urgency, of happenstance.

The music like a bright hand scatters slips of paper:
to the sun!

There is a parking space next to the gaze, we’ll set out
from one material reality
to another

(Israel Eliraz)