Bog Miroslav Mandić Bog

I’m rejoicing You woman in my soul

I’m rejoicing You female within me

I am a hermaphrodite

loyal whore to the one

enchanting gigolo of the one

runaway children don’t give birth to children but to love for all beings

beggars don’t give birth to greed but to love for all beings

people who commit suicide don’t give birth to wars but to love for all beings

morning

my morning

everything

mine

is

all

yours

I yearn to lick Your armpits

to refresh Your eyelashes

it took me minute or two to remember how eyelashes are called

sex of truth is the most sexual sex

the truth of sex is the most truthful truth

we are the same in truth

in one and only truth that we are the same

that we are the one

that we are the only one

only one in everything

only one with everybody within us

a sip of a daily bite

Verica Barac

I’m washing blankets before moving out

I’m rejoicing simplification

I’m not sleeping any more on the books but on three foam mattresses

like a grass on which a rabbit was sleeping sinks overnight

morning dew

sprinkling of sunlight through the branches

mild humming of the wind

steps

universe of beauty

art becomes by itself

prayer is talking to God – meditation is listening to God

I’ve read this two days ago

inhaling and exhaling

a friend is reading poets in the early morning

a man from the fourth floor was holding the doors for me yesterday

the apartment of the First House of All Beings in which

I’m moving to on Sunday is located on the very edge of the city

a view from the window overlooks the northwest

the plains and the sky

the sun that is setting

to be just to be

to be good in this world

through writing

through reading

through writing I incite reading

alliance and companionship

peaceful quietness and warm conversation

with mild smile

with trembling of leaves

hand on top of hand

agreement flows through the eye of a needle

with gooseflesh

with health through which I flow through You

with the art of rebirth

miracle within miracle

with

the

tip

of

my

finger

I’m

meandering

down

the

spine

of

existence

with

the

tip

of

my

finger

I’m

meandering

down

the

spine

of

existence

all

beings

feel

beautiful

with

the

tip

of

my

finger

I’m

meandering

down

the

spine

of

existence

all

beings

feel

good

bundle of singing

heights

are

blossoming

in

depths

of

your

soul

do You feel

do You feel it

do

you

feel

how

it’s

seamlessly

budding

budding

i’m budding

you’re budding

buds

we

are

budding

eternity 

on the terrace of the First House of All Beings

I would love to have basil lavender and houseleek

the First House of All Beings I will also call the House of All Beings or just the House

it’s important that I live it as a house of all beings

whenever I say all beings I really think of all beings

known and unknown

those who used to live – those who live now – those who will live

I also think of all events

flickering of air after every spoken word

event of a being

being of an event

all hope in the red ball

a woman who thanked me for singing

a woman who sent me a text message after midnight

a woman who sent me this morning a verse by a poet after her morning reading

events of the Universe make the Universe

girl from the fourth floor who I greeted yesterday

heart of this day

I’m moving my toes

my toes are enjoying the music I’m listening to

singing

of

goodness

goodness

is

pleased

through

singing

of

beauty

grace

feels

nice

big words in small hearts are singing to all beings

just imagine how nightingale’s heart is singing

heart of a swallow while flying

heart of a being itself in the heart of every being

house of being

being of house

each blessing You can imagine with a man on the road

lips of smile

smile of lips

like a rose which is budding

circle of ball

ball of circle

like a couple in a man on the road

like all beings in the budding rose

Cosmo to Cosmos

through my name whole Cosmos flickers

that’s how I feel and think and I think that’s how feels and thinks Cosmos as well

through cooing I became cooing

little Cosmo to the little Cosmos

I’m thirsty for You my thirst

hey you fool

a driver yelled at me on the crossroads thinking that I’m taking photo of him and I was only taking photo of myself

I bought three bouquets of daffodils for the last working day in the Nest

I also bought two lettuces

small bread non-dairy cheese and mustard with horseradish

being happy with just a little bit

being loyal to the sex of all beings

being grace on painful spots of every being

only in last few days of my dwelling in Udbinska Street

have I realised that I was all the time through his seamlessness loved by

an old and inconspicuous dog which lives in that street and sleeps on the pavement

I belong to You my street dog

all blessings that I sing are Your poem as well

the taste of only washed lettuce is unexcelled

I’m feeding You with myself

be

worthy

of

me

miroslav

mandic

is

miroslav

mandic’s

poem

good

poems

are

beautiful

poems

gentle

poems

are

brave

poems

through

cooing

i

became

innocence

of

all-fucking

joy of blessings is circling the Cosmos

Cosmo you have a beautiful name

You are saying to me

Cosmo your poems are beautiful

You are saying to me thorough shyness

Cosmo you are Cosmo to me

You are saying to me with mild radiance

You can spread my happiness over the daily bread

You will feel it under the tongue like a taste of the Cosmos itself

with each bite You will be embraced with the ocean of health

embracing the embraced one

what You are feeling now are my sips with which I’m drinking You my beloved

I’m moving out tomorrow

it will be a small piece from the art of moving

warm sunrays of Saturday afternoon on the road of eternity

I hope I will connect to the internet tomorrow and celebrate

in the divinity of Sunday all moments from the beginning of time

yesterday I moved out

moving lasted from 10 am to 2 pm

twelve car rounds were needed for the Bud to be

moved from the Nest into the First House of All Beings

Bud was moved by Sun Mandic Nebojsa Rikanovic Mirjana Lukic

Violeta Jovanovic Maja Klisinski Ivana Djokic-Saunderson and Nemanja Radovic

afterwards from 2 pm to 4 pm Violeta Jovanovic Mirjana Lukic

Maja Klisinski and Ivana Djokic-Saunderson have washed and cleaned the Nest

I came to the First House of All Beings around 5 pm. I was

the loneliest man in this world but also the most joyous being in all worlds

sound

health of compassion

everything on the table was the same

even more the same after so many years at the table

I love life at the table ever since I was a little boy

music

words on the screen

things on the table

yellow daffodils

smell of hyacinth

first duty of the First House of All Beings is to smell of flowers

remember everything connected to the First House of All Beings and with that memory be my guide

everything around me was different

light

space

water taps

I didn’t know where my things were

TV wasn’t working because of the cable

I was exhausted like every child in the end of the day

I still managed on 1^st April 2012 as well

to thank all the people who are giving me the new money

Bud of Money through which I live work walk create and sing

I spoke over the phone with Ivana Violeta and Mirjana

cloths we threw away are the best cloths

I said to Mirjana over the phone

the pain in my chest back and stomach didn’t appear

I was getting up several times during the night and only towards the morning was hurting me a bit

out of all options of moving this is the worst one

and that’s why all I have to do is to make a miracle out of it

poor ones are saving the world

sex

poor ones have always been saving the world

sex

poor ones are love-kissing the world forever

sex

poverty is the only richness of this world

sex

sex of dawn love-kisses the sex of dusk

sex of noon love-kisses the sex of midnight

sex of understanding love-kisses the sex of misunderstanding

sex of fear love-kisses the sex of trust

sex of Ivana Hadzi Popovic love-kisses the sex of playing

sex of a little path love-kisses the wasteland

budded tits of just grown up girls love-kiss

the lips of all boys of this world who are already dead

poetry of joy love-kisses the poetics of horror

architecture of labia love-kisses the determination of homelessness

legs in the air love-kiss the extremity of upstreamity

sex of crossed hands love-kisses the sex of coming feet from the distance

sex of all beings love-kisses the sex of one and only being

sex of loneliness love-kisses the sex of disappointed ones

sex of strength love-kisses the sex of an oath

sex love-kisses sex

today I saw fifteen year old prostitute working on the road

second duty of the First House of All Beings

is that all beings always find place in my heart

third duty of the First House of All Beings are

Seven Pictures which are yearning for me to draw them

fourth duty of the First House of All Beings

are Coffees of Courage which I will be giving to all beings

sex of rejected ones regenerates the sex of overprotected ones

sex of the blessings nurtures all other moments in every day

writing nurturing

word buds through the sex of floral words

all words are floral

uplifting

sex of taking-off gives itself to the sex of melancholic ones

sex of unexpected protects the sex of unprotected ones

sex of the beginning is the only sex that never stops

sex of pain trembles on the sex of grace

sex of every boy is in the sex of this blessing

sex of every girl is in the sex of each blessing

sex of every youngling is the sex of any word that celebrates the sex of every youngling

sex

of

the

poem

is

the

sex

of

singing

sex

of

tenderness

yields

to

and

surrenders

to

the

very

sex

through

which

everything

is

bottom

up

sex

fifth duty of the First House of All Beings is

to leave the First House of All Beings to somebody

sixth duty of the First House of All Beings is to become the Bud of All Beings

duty is exciting

it makes aware

it eroticise the conscience

another 54700 blessings are in front of me

I enjoy admiring

I despise manipulative admiring

I love previous

afterwards is despicable

philosophy as philosophy is my philosophy

philosophy as fiction is shit

I bow down to autobiographies

romanced biographies are kitsch of the kitsch

it looks as if you can see the whole world

Srdjan Valjarevic wrote to me about the photos of sunset taken from the balcony of the First House of All Beings

seventh duty of the First House of All Beings is

to constantly repeat without a doubt and tirelessly on the

Solemn Sunday Lunches that all of that is happening in the First House of All Beings

repetition is the mother of mothers of repetition

warm sun is shining

I just felt the fragrance of Your skin

greenery of the spine

I’m having great time with the flowers on my working table

bring me a little bouquet and You won’t make mistake with that

I’m slowly calming down and getting into

the life and work in the First House of All Beings

I should carry on drawing the Numbers

now I’m drawing fifty sixth picture with which I

started working on the first picture for the number eleven

I’m left with another ten pictures

I started working on them on 25^th February 2011

maybe I could finish them before the beginning of summer

hey

and to solemnly show them to somebody on the first day of summer – the day of beggars

let’s go my patience

I just thought that I should shave off my hair

good job

small courage is the greatest courage

a hug of Cosmos

I am a woman of the brave and oversensitive ones

courage is sometimes the only oversensitivity

just like oversensitivity always is courage

last night I had that strong pain again

stomach

back

chest

my forehead was covered with sweat from the pain

when the pain stopped I felt incredible grace

instead of coffee I’m drinking tea

I lost the strength

boiler got broken as well

I’m waiting for the landlord to call me in fifteen minutes

he didn’t call in next two hours

I only have enough willpower to go and cut my hair

I feel a bit better because of the hairdresser woman who remembers my tattoos

and where is that yellow one – she asked

she says she remembers them from last summer when she cut my hair

her watchfulness has encouraged and strengthened me

conceived me

like many others this day as well is made out of leftovers

just that it doesn’t hurt

absence of pain is greatest solemnity

so that nobody hurts

wow how I easily fall

like a dandelion

I’m drinking wine in order to get up

there is no joy within me

I admit – but how wonderful that confession rejoices me

I’m helpless

I admit that I’m helpless and that opens me up to the immortal sophistication

I’m caressing You roughness

I hope that in the evening I will have the strength to walk

that the evening will go away without the pain

that my cells will feel nice in this world

that the Bud of All Beings will keep on budding within me

Bud of All Beings is the God’s Rose

I already wrote this but it’s my duty to repeat that as well

bring me roses

roses bring me

sister daughter mother wife of mine

only when it hurts do I feel how life constantly loves me

I’m imagining that I’m in the water

rejoice

rejoice

my

beloved

today I made ten thousandth photo with my new camera

it started counting them again from one

every day I take forty or so photos out of which I choose two

the rest of them I erase

one for the Face of Walking

second for the Bud of the Day

everything that exists exists so that everything would exist

smile of an orange

smile of the setting sun

I am the art of dusk

I am the art of midnight

I am the art of daybreak

I am the art of noon

the art of circling

art in each moment and each point of circling

sexuality of point

sexuality of moment

point me my moment

moment me my point

everything is sexual

sexuality is a child of everything

I love to draw with words

I love to sing through words

I love to caress with words

I’m watching the clock on the wall and the second hand which is sliding and circling

now I have two wall clocks

I would love to have one on each wall

I hope I’ll soon have them since they are not expensive but they are beautiful and precise

ten clocks

ten clocks precise like time

Ten Clocks Precise Like Time – first work of art made in the First House of All beings

time of love

eternity

eternity of the first kiss

eternity of everyday kiss

I’ve

been

searching

for

this

poem

several

times

poem

is

searching

for

a

poem

poem

is

finding

a

poem

poem

is

searching

for

a

poet

who

will

live

and

sing

the

poem

poem

is

blood

which

never

fails

here’s

a

poem

poem is loyal

poem is a loved one

poem

is

god’s

blood

indistinct repetition of repetition

Ten Clocks Precise Like Time

I’m more and more absorbed by the work Ten Clocks Precise Like Time

in honour of Ten Clocks Precise Like Time

I will read famous One Thousand and One Nights

I feel tenderness for the time Berdyaev said is vanity

Berdyaev also said loneliness is always sexual loneliness

everything somebody said somebody else already said

from the great depth of time words are blossoming

sex is wholeness

sex is attracting halves of sexes because it is the wholeness of the whole

sex of the whole is immortal sex

sex of the sexes is mortal sex

on the table where untill recently was the Twelfth Table Picture

on which I was writing poems I am You are I for a year now is the

Thirteenth Table Picture on which is the sketch of the picture

Setting Sun or Seven Pictures in the First House of All Beings

gratitude of gratitude

whoever gives gained

you are great giving and even greater you are word yes

whoever give to me gains a lot more

whoever gives to God gains everything

i’m

everything

to

you

i’m

enjoying

you

god

you

are

the

light

of

my

joy

i’m

singing

you

god

i’m

singing

you

god

you

are

my

poem

i’m

singing

you

god

you

are

my

poem

through

your

words

sing

miroslav

mandic

poem

of

all

beings

you

are

my

only

poem

Eros and Agape – yes

Eros and Thanatos – no

path

to

a

path

rose

of

a

rose

hey

truths

all my secrets are in this blessing in which there are no secrets

be quiet but don’t have secrets

I’m yearning for You and that could be my only secret

the

secret

of

the

beginning

of

this

poem

is

in

every

poem

poem

of

a

throat

I thought how it would be nice to tattoo the word poem on my throat

do it for me

it got cold. I came back after only five kilometres of walking

I’m warming myself up with a bit of brandy

I’m sleepy therefore the blessings will be drowsy as well

blessings of the street dogs who are lying in the sun

my eyes are shutting down

I’m surrendering to the surrendering

spring waters are taking everything down

when you see where river bends you saw everything

I love-kiss You childhood of these moments

I love-kiss You the childhood of all childhoods

I love-kiss You the childhood of all younglings

childhood of these moments is embracing the childhood of eternity

childhood of eternity is the only childhood and the only eternity

I woke up a bit just enough to say that I’m just enough sad

tenderly

with corrugated waving of the grass

with plain young man while he’s watching big motorcycle with admiration

with erected nipples

with backs of horses donkeys camels elephants

tender sadness nurtures the back of all beings which are ridden by some other beings

tender sadness doesn’t sadden anybody

tender sadness is a kind of quiet joy

open heart is God

closed heart is man

open heart is one and only heart

heart beating in all beings

heart beating in all words

heart of a fool

heart of a wanderer

crazy heart

wanderer-like heart

I’m on Kaja’s grave

in my heart and mind

I’m on Milomir’s grave

in my mind and heart

peace

open sky

one clear and positive thought has greater power than any feat

Elder Paisios the Athonite

goodness and beauty to everyone

yesterday evening I was walking on the road to Obrenovac

today as well I’m on it

sun is shining but air is still cold

I’m walking towards the vehicles and it seems as if I’m walking upstream

air is warmer. I took off my red cap

I’m happy on this narrow and winding path through the field

I feel beautiful here between fourteen rail tracks as well

I’m absorbing little yellow flowers in this slope

me on the road – a crow in the grass

white butterflies are flying by the white fruit trees

how

it

must

be

hard

for

your

heart

god

after thirteen and half kilometres of walking my calcaneus and my left toe nail are hurting

a smell of cooking that is coming from somewhere

into the First House of All Beings made me sad as well

I wanted everything to smell of flowers and it smells of cooking

wow how I find difficult to live like people are living

I always found it hard

I love-kiss you wanderers

you are the only ones who are love-kissing this world like their house

only

just

but

it

is

a

poem

somewhere

some

other

beings

are

singing

in

this

poem

as

well

beings which are crossing miles and miles

beings

are

singing

through

being

itself

through freckles on the chest

through music in the distance

through tingling of the nerve ends

through the expansion of peripheral blood vessels

through the smell of a deer balls

through the horizon behind a curve

through stepping into the cold water

through drying the hair in the sun

through caressing of the wind with bare skin

through constant exposing to the elements

o

n

j  u  s  t

l

y

woman who I’m buying lettuce from makes me feel good

I love how Roma people are steeling electricity for their settlements

they get connected through the power pole. they dig a thin line in the asphalt for the

wire. then cover that with bitumen or an old rug and bring electricity into their nobility

I have a lot of respect for those people

they are cleaners of suppressed human evil

I love them and I admire them

Roma children are a miracle of beauty itself

life in all its glory

Roma people are honorary members among all beings

they sing fucking good

they embrace the world with their voice

they are unbelievably honest

few days ago I saw an old Roma crossing the road with his little grandson

an icon of life

yesterday I saw twelve year old Roma driving a cultivator with a trailer

in which he is collecting carton from the streets with his two peers. grandpa

was sitting next to him as twelve year Roma yawned while slowly getting out of

his settlement on the road

an icon of work

I am a Gypsy to all Roma

joy of hear in the heart of every being

with new voice recorder and same words

the field of dandelions is yellow

tall young invalid man is moving slowly with the crutch

the voice recorder fits nicely in my hand

street dog is watching left and right and then crossing the street

my happiness

I saw a robin singing on the branch

I haven’t seen him for a long time. I recognise his singing

I’m watching him fascinated

he’s positioned high. if he was lower I would have come close to him

voice recorder recorded his singing

I see him opening his beak while singing

life is so beautiful

why are people committing such crimes

every child which is born comes into the world of crimes

humanity is crime

one spider is walking over my hand

so terribly and so much killings. even more creepy is to be silent about and

not admitting to anything but making heroism out of it that’s what human history is

I’m walking calmly and slowly so that tearing the blood and hatred would stop

yellow dandelion fields are everywhere

from last year I’m walking in socks and sandals

nobleness of pleasure

four young man in front of me are talking about

cars and they are constantly saying hey man hey man hey man

it lost its old romantic aspect – an old lady is saying

those lanterns I will never forget – an old gentleman is adding

here are first people who are sunbathing on the lake

I’m walking. closing my eyes. imagining to fly

air is moving me throwing and carrying through the space

air fills me. I turn myself into the air

an instructor on the rollers is teaching little boy how to ride a bike

another little boy is holding his father’s hand and constantly

talking something. father is doing his hair and he’s not listening him at all

I already taught myself to write and to enjoy with new voice recorder

a crow bathed itself in the lake water. it shook of the water. it flew away

spring sun is warm like in heavens

I bought a mosquito net yesterday. today I bought

another two. the nets are superb. a strip is glued to the

window and very thin net with Velcro is sealed up to the strip

I typed in everything from the voice recorder and learned how to erase all

I’m sad because I don’t have an understanding with almost anybody

that’s

the

way

it

is

and

I

should

even

more

so

sing

to

everybody

t

o

y

o

u

m

y

b

a

b

y

I really love the word all

only all

last night being half asleep I was thinking of the word all

I got up and wrote down and all and everything and everybody

alleverythingeverybody

wow how good is that

I am Alleverythingeverybody

in honour of the name Alleverythingeverybody I’m going to buy one wall clock

I bought two

I’m guarding everything with all

all is always and forever

all is inhale of everything and exhale in everybody

each river is all-river

each mother is all-mother

each carrot is all-carrot

each love is all-love

if there was no walking I wouldn’t comprehend all

if there was no withholding I wouldn’t live all

if there was no You I wouldn’t love-kiss all

my voice recorder yearns for writing

all seeks all

may it always be just all

only all is loyal

all seconds make all minutes. all minutes

make all hours. all hours make all twenty four hours

circle is a picture of all

ball is a body of all

dot is all

all is world

all is consciousness

only all creates consciousness and only consciousness is all

poems

of

mind

love-kiss

poems

of

heart

poems

of

heart

hug

poems

of

mind

I took off my shoes

for the first time this year I’m walking barefooted

my heel is hurting me a lot. I’m yearning for barefootedness

pains are making me sad

I’m drinking so that pains also rejoice

I’m thankful to the pains as well

to endure

to be patient

I wiped the floor

tonight is Easter

I love Easter

it’s very important to be alone

to a lonely woman

to all beings

to changes

to transformations

to the beauty of writing

to the words’ magic

magic word

word amber

alive

path

down the path

with the rose

to the path

to the rose

to the constant wedding of all beings

to the First House of All Beings in the end of the city

the

art

of

solitude

sings

solitude

live

everything

is

live

everyone is live

nobody is alone

my name is Nobody Is Alone

me Alleverythingeverybody and me Nobody Is Alone and there it is Miroslav Mandic

Saturday love-kisses Sunday

Sunday love-kisses all days and nights

the legend of Podbara died last night. Sava Silic

Bora Dragas let me know through sms

few years older boy than me from my street

19 Patriarch Carnojevic Street

the legend of Podbara

how he was eating grapes

how live was he

the truth of my childhood

a teddy

older boy

death celebrates life

when you pass uncle Pera’s. Terefina’s.

Perifa’s. Obrad’s house. there was Drockal’s house

29 Patriarch Carnojevic Street

Sava Laza Ase Perif

they were playing cards over there in the blockhouse

they were playing ferbl

that’s where Sava was eating grapes

he endeared it for me forever

God only knows why but Sava was the chief

he was spreading danger around him

danger of childhood even though everything was innocent

all day long playing

thieves and cops

leapfrog

climbing and chasing each other

and then playing with sticks that we would throw in order to hit the can

cugara – I remembered the term

then pigeons and pigeon fancying

hanovers tipplers szegediners

fishing and plunging

dancing twist in Tekelija Street next to the big swing on the mulberry

first lifted collars

Sava is the same as Julian

that’s all the same

one and only goodness

bulrush and sedge

water grass and water lilies

eternal

life

of

Sava

Silic

every day from today until twenty fourth of May I will be taking only photos of grass

green greenery of the greens

for ten years I was drawing Grass now

I will be taking photos of them for thirty three days

I’m enjoying the trees and greenness of the leaves

last week’s pain in my stomach – which spreads on chest and back

and that lasts from February – and the pain in my heel have exhausted me

I would love if you would do something so that the pain in my heel lessens and stops

I will

I hope the stomach will calm down as well

it will

just patiently and slowly

calmly and with calmness

ecstasy is there anyway and it also never betrays

the greenness of joy also as well as the enjoyment in greenness are here

it’s cold and wet so everything is green and it’s a dark iron greenness

an old tall gentleman with his hands on the back is walking slowly and calmly whistling

good spirit of the lake

who whistles spreads the peace around them

waves are carrying a thin line of foam onto the pebbly lake shore

I like this coldness while walking

while waiting for the green light on the pedestrian crossing it gives

me pleasure to thinking about the warm shower which is waiting for me

a bit of brandy. a lot of music. finishing the blessings

I’m thinking of the grass which I will be taking photo of in following days

of the dew on grass blades

I love-kiss You frailness

each blessing is a pilgrimage

hey

pilgrimage to blessings

wow

I love when a lot of thoughts end up in a blessing like this

I love when deep thinking ends up in the flow of cold air around my face

wind is swinging lilac braches

a dove and a pigeon are cooing on the red car roof

I would love if You would take me to my

magnolia in the Botanical Garden one of these days

brandy and music are making me warm

greenness of the future photos of grass is making me warm

I could be taking photos of them every day till the end of my life

grass and sparrows

repeating of repetition

love-kissing

I’m taking photos of grass in rain

I’m watching them

absorbing

grass is everywhere

I’m enjoying watching them

they are getting wet

grass is drinking the rain

both wheat and rice are some kind of grass

violet magnolia leaves fallen over the green grass

one is never alone with grass

nobody is ever alone with grass

my

poems

are

blades

to

the

grass

that

is

that

that

that

t

h

a

t

t

h

a

t

t

h

a

t

v

e

r

y

s

a

m

e

g

r

a

s

s

b

l

a

d

e

I feel more and more beautiful with grass and words

game

I’m playing it

it’s playing me

game

is

poem

of

singing

poem

is

game

of

playing

all answers are in the madhouse

all questions in the infinity of goodness

infinity always makes me overwhelmed with tenderness of being

tenderness of being is infinity of closeness through which beings are breathing

breathing is breastfeeding through closeness

breastfeeding is breathing through infinity

everything

is

within

one

beauty

dear

to

goodness

goodness

dear

to

beauty

dear

blade

of

mine

is

my

beloved

blade

of

mine

blade yourself blade

simplicity

you

are

my

water

and

food

light of the screen is a humus of these just sprouted words

words are shining like today’s grass

You don’t even know what is so green from all that greenery

nor You know what is so bright from all that light

watery lights

blades full of water and light

everything receives everything into itself

light enters everyone

light immerses into the light

light of a word into the light of the screen

light of a word into the light of the screen

light of a word into the light of the screen

light of a word into the light of the screen

light of a word into the light of the screen

light of a word into the light of the screen

light of the light

light itself

disappearing through beauty

disappearing in beauty

who love-kisses light is

who light is freedom is as well

freedom love-kisses light

light love-kisses love-kissing

love-kissing love-kisses singing

singing love-kisses creating

creating love-kisses walking

I’m walking You walk me

music serves the mucus of saliva of each kiss

music serves the stamping of horses

music is also in the whiz of anyone’s tail

I am Miroslav Mandic and I am Johnny Cash and I’m starting to sing

greetings to Hank Williams

Johnny Cash sings on the Crazy Horse

deep bow down to the Indians

deep admiration for the Roma people

I’m only Yours whoever You are

I’m greeting you Whoever You Are

ask me to tell You about the beauty which I just experienced

with a ten year old girl from the fifth floor from the next building