Where roots spread into oblivions…by G. Mramor

Where roots spread into oblivions…by G. Mramor

Where roots spread into oblivions, there I am recording the lines of ghosts, drawing their names to bring a dawn to their faces again, ripped from dream and so scared of the loneliness of hands and feet, and the one body which connects all and yet lets the mind and eyes runaway to lonelier places [...]

My friend…by G. Mramor

My friend…by G. Mramor

  My friend, what pasts do you alone feel? what voices can you not be free of? what have you seen in all your time? Did you see the oceans, filled with prescient strife, form the land? Did you see the land, filled with prescient fury, mold the clay? Did you see the clay, filled [...]