Bog Miroslav Mandić Bog

grannies are selling first snowdrops on the street

 

last night I caught the cold from ever more colder wall I’m sleeping next to

 

every day some kind of hardship

Yours glory God

 

I set off with new glasses

 

they are great for watching TV but I felt as if I shrunk in the street

 

last glasses were making me taller

 

I was struggling for an hour

 

I was despondent

 

I was carrying my burden

 

a thought of going again to the optician was additionally pressing me

 

then I took off the glasses and I felt as if I started to fly

 

I decided not to wear them in the street

 

I stopped by the optician after all and he seemed to have fixed them

in any case he was kind and that always means the most to me

 

technicalities are the hardship

 

exercises of self-comprehension

 

pains and hardships are singling me out and killing me

 

I am dead until pains and hardships become the part of the wholeness

 

here from last night also the prostate pain

 

and today’s snowdrops

 

and grannies

 

magnificent

 

François Villon

 

imperishable spirit is singing of perishability

 

 

care

about

me

You

will

be

reborn

 

 

love-kiss

me

and

You

will

never

die

 

 

affirm

my

singing

creating

and

walking

and

You

will

be

celebrated

 

 

I am the one

 

I am You are I

 

 

one

everything

is

one

 

 

all

all I all

all

 

 

modesty

 

moving

 

 

I

a m

you

are

I

 

I’m thinking for too long now how to start the first blessing and that’s

why it’s better to start right away so that I wouldn’t think any more

 

I’ve just heard that Slavko Bogdanovic’s mother passed away these days

 

blade

 

beautiful woman told me that the lace on my left shoe was untied

 

when the shoelace untied for the second time today I wanted to write about it but I

gave up. when it untied for the third time then as well I thought of writing about it

but I gave up this time as well. now I’m writing about it because of this woman

 

absence of joy also makes joy

 

Your absence makes Your presence

 

the sun has wormed me up and closed my eyes

 

while I was taking the photo of this street dog

I saw in his eyes much more sorrow than mine

 

I’m constantly thinking of the sad dog

 

dog blade

 

the space is waiting for our love

it’s written in one of the graffiti by the Hippodrome

 

is it cold – a young gipsy asks me. no it’s not. and what

about You – I’m asking him. here I’m doing what I can

 

here I’m also doing what I can

 

I’m leaning towards the screen

 

I’m touching the screen’s light

 

white is the whiteness on which I’m writing

 

something so old and yet eternally young is writing these words on the electronic paper

 

through words I’m conveying the beauty of the words

 

through words I’m conveying the art of conveying the words

 

through words I am the sad dog

 

through words I am the gypsy who’s trying to do whatever he can

 

through words I am Slavko Bogdanovic’s mother

 

through words I am something so Beckett-like

 

so Walser-like

 

Zeljko Radic

 

electronic letter from Zeljko Radic has warmed up my heart

 

encouraged

 

blade

 

tomorrow I’ll make the blessings out of this letter

 

I’m postponing

 

postponement of the pleasure is the art of presence

 

right away

 

soon

 

down the Pozeska street

 

three boys are imitating limping and rolling with laughter

 

conductors with yellow markings are crossing to the other side of the street

 

poor people’s skinny black horse

 

a pile of leftover snow around the tree

 

an older sister is carrying the younger sister’s backpack

 

a greasy paper thrown away after the eaten sandwich

 

icy magic in the gutter

 

torn wire on the negligent windows

 

wherever I look I see the rust

 

ashes against the ice

 

lumps of snow in the paddle

 

the moss of the pediment wall

 

window glass painted white

 

the smell of alcohol in the breath of a man going down the Visoka street

 

plastic dish with milk for the street cats

 

big dry plane tree leaf on the concrete path

 

a little branch

 

dog’s lifted tail

 

small piece of wood unappealing like a lot of things

that the beauty of the world consists of

sublime enchanting of unappealing

 

wind starts carrying the little dry leaf

 

number 113 stamped on the concrete post

 

from the chipped reinforced concrete a reinforcement bar is sticking out

 

yellow green brown seat of the seesaw

 

leftover snow on the green iron swing

 

rose bush tied up with a rope

 

yellow metal post pulled out of soft dump ground

 

water waves are overflowing the frozen parts of the lake

 

a woman with the red jacket has leaned on the tree with her back

 

moist corner of the yard full of unnecessary-necessary things

 

thin traces of water are running down like little snakes

 

half burned match

 

rusted creased can

enchanting unappealness of the sublime

 

I turned around after one beautiful woman

but I was surprised that she also turned around so

for a faction of a second I lost the balance and fell down heavily

 

did you brake something – asked me an older woman who was

climbing up the slope I fell down. no I didn’t – I answered her. good for

you – she added. I’m sorry for scaring you – I told her while I was getting up

 

it’s slippery. I saw how you fell – said

a young street cleaner hundred meters later

 

I wasn’t hurt only a bit of the skin on my palms was stripped off on the sharp frozen snow

 

it’s incredible how everything changes in the fraction of a second

 

yesterday I’ve heard of wonderful wise old woman who has left all her

savings to the people who were kind to her in the everyday life

 

devastating simplicity

 

f

a

s

c

i

n

a

t

i

n

g

 

b

e

a

u

t

y

 

o

f

 

s

i

n

g

i

n

g

 

I’m caressing Your heart

 

strengthening the liver

 

life be worthy of singing of

 

singing is a prayer

 

the prayer of resurrection

 

of all beings to all beings

 

love for all beings resurrects every being

 

the artist of everything in every being

 

the poet of being in all beings

 

walker

 

faller

 

gentleness of Your smile

 

Your belly is trembling Your breast are shaking

 

senses of immortality are nurturing mortal senses

 

blue tendrils on Your thighs and breasts

 

dedication is above the reason

 

taste of the loneliness unites all beings

 

a girl is watching a boy who is standing on the edge of the lake and watching the water

 

I am excited by Your excitement with me

 

all for one and one for all beats anybody and anything

 

all for one and one for all loses after great victories if it doesn’t

find out or if it’s forgetting that All For One And One For All is the name of God

 

love is hungry

 

loyalty is thirsty

 

have a bite of me

 

have a sip

 

two

thousand

twenty

second

day

of

the

singing

of

miroslav

mandic

book

 

gratitude gratitude gratitude

 

towards the 3333^rd day

 

towards the 4444^th day

 

the beauty of numbers

 

on Saturday I bought a book about numerology on the street and I saw in it

that the number 12.960.000 is the number of the Universe or the Plato’s number

 

Miroslav Mandic book is a little Universe because

every day I write thirty three out of its 129.600 blessings

 

numbers arise in bountiful warmth of good souls

 

here is one beautiful story about a nine year old boy

 

Words of wisdom are spoken by children as least as often by scientists. The name "googol" was invented by a child (Dr. Kasner's nine-year-old nephew) who was asked to think up a name for a very big number, namely, 1 with a hundred zeros after it. He was very certain that this number was not infinite, and therefore equally certain that it had to have a name. At the same time that he suggested "googol" he gave a name for a still larger number: "Googolplex". A googolplex is much larger than a googol, but is still finite, as the inventor of the name was quick to point out. It was suggested that a googolplex should be 1, followed by writing zeros until you get tired. This is a description of what would happen if one actually tried to write a googolplex, but different people get tired at different times and it would never do to have Carnera better mathematician than Dr. Einstein, simply because he had more endurance. The googolplex then, is a specific finite number, with so many zeros after the 1 that the number is a googol. A googolplex is much bigger than a googol. You will get some idea of the size of this very large but finite number from the fact that there would not be enough room to write it, if you went to the farthest star, touring all the nebulae and putting down zeros every inch of the way.

 

from now on every time I go and search something on Google

I’ll also think of the nine year old boy Milton Sirotta

 

I came back from the walking frozen. it was very cold. I was just walking

 

I wanted to think of the nine year old boy who coined

the word googol but I was just going through the coldness

 

I thought of writing the googol number with one wand and hundred little stones

 

maybe some other time when I wish to enjoy the beauty of a number on the ground

 

everything was white from the frosting

 

I’ve never learned that much about numbers

 

I just love them

 

create

 

sing

 

walk them

 

I’ve never read much about words

 

I just love-kiss them

 

sing

 

create

 

walk them

 

I’ve never listened too much about walkings

 

I just dance them

 

walk

 

create

 

sing them

 

I’ve never been what I am now – 2222^nd day of writing the Little Universe

 

endless gentleness of a bud

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