NON-

What am I?
__________________

Medically, I'm not a syndrome
I'm not a disease
I'm not a disorder
I'm not a virus
I'm not an injury
I'm not an accident
I'm not a sickness
I am old but I am stronger than ever
and I usually care for these sick
funnily enough

I can be anarchic
I can be social
I can be a vendetta and
both an ecology and economy
I can be communal
I can be a landscape
I can be sustainablility
I can be monied
or without money

I can be a club and an assassination

Everyone has me but not everyone can use me, officially
I can be tyrannical
I can be an agenda
I can be a promise and promising
I can be an outsider and an insider simultaneously
I can be revolutionary and also a stabiliity

I can be an elite, martyr, refugee, dynamo I can be a sacrifice - all at the same time.

People like to say that others who have me can fall into the above categories.

And we're even told there is culture of overprescription and overdiagnosis. I can be a saviour to some and reviled to others.
I can be saviour to all but after some time, a curse.

I can also be the "not-" category as well? I'm monstrous enough to be both at the same time too. I can be suspicious of it all, including suspicious of myself. There so many of me and I'm all in the one place

NON-

                1.  [you pull apart the green until the last Eucharist and a few minutes]

                began to collapse all trees older than a birthday

                be heard    open windows and people by freeing them

             people and doors running     the fear of hearing

             of a deluxe Miss and a dog with barks halting

             and in the end of confession

             barely it was heard this poem and your name

             self-undressing

             in it

\

2.  [it was morning in my body]

             and the cold could be heard far away

      sometimes

      when no one jail reading   me

       when no one red touch     me

                I heard myself in Word

              even name

              only one word less

              for fear

3.  [Let  step in  empty the skin  of the city]

               to run us in brains these mental

hospitals

and burials from a young hand

where rising has swollen veins

and you snatch from my

shoulder the taste

unrestrained streams butterfly

until finally

        line of walls

              my hands are blind in your

              kneading

              forced prison to beg

              mercy to the living

              and young lady strolling

              through    bites

              blocks

              asks from corner to corner

              In what clear season we could

              rummage

                      the future?

\\\

  

4. parallel of scream

people that run above the skin have learned their diurnity by heart

and the certainty of cold buried in the most sincere cheek

as  sleep piled between words

freshly picked from a Crucifixion

I have not encountered any donor of death willing to photograph his scream

no one lover who can give me my birth every night

ballerina who was born eleven men honest

it was hidden in my blood as in a hotel room

sometimes she bite  my feet the bad roads

and I looked at  her with greed carried until blindness

how she was trying to escape from the contour of everyone men

who had  become ill of her thighs

early morning I support the air do not collapse

under birds weight

I'm looking for my hands lost in other hands

thinking about the end of your cheek color

and I released at the end of the book

remains

of a uninhabited ballerina

my name is 2

5.

Day 14

to my dear corner

was a time that  I liked to sleep in church

built between two women

with old hands

from middle teeth like attics

crying statues in sparrows

the rest eyes bitten of  heights

for this reason I agreed priority

the first ten meters

typewritten death

until taming

(C) Daniel Dăian

translated by Daniela Voicu

NON-

there are moments I remember that I thought I'd forget
times in m'life of no significance and yet
my inner eye is watching the film
an actor named me
is narrating

when mania infused every cell
and i wrote in code
page after page
for 3 days without sleep

switch

depression came
filled my spirit with black tears
drained my will to live
never leaving the bed
in dread of waking

these are moments in a life lived long

gone

passed by

yet recalled in a flash

- Fran Yule
Western Australia

for Ole Steam Engine Puffin

NON-

xxx