Sunday 5 November 2017

2 Poems by Katarina Balazsova


We seem to be in the same
black hole of which edge
has something like asphalt
flowing in hot
Forget these lines
in case I'm generating
a dead end,
but I'm anyways
terminally ill with lust
so I can write what
I normally don't
leaving any decorations
out of the text
such as daffodils painted
in pale lemon with colour
and water which, once thick
with ash, will smother the fire
with careful avoidance
of spilling over the rim

(previously published in Accent Aspirations Magazine's Friday's Poems)


after the night
ocean reveals itself
sunken into its bed
and consciousness.

reversed like mountains upside down,
with exposed bits and fragments
it now forms a landscape
in a negative space.

it makes you want to
go there and walk it,
forgetting the purpose
of present state.

why this coding
and conditioning?
this shall be the last
ever written down—

the last documentation
of dream that will not last,
like the ocean-print
in the barren region.


Katarina Balazsova, a native Slovakian born into Hungarian family, moved to Vancouver, Canada in 2004 in search of true identity.  She came out of the closet as a Poet and now thrives on writing in her second language. Her poetry is published in Ascent Aspirations Magazine, Crap Orgasm and recently in Sustenance: Writers from BC and Beyond on the Subject of Food.

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