Saturday, August 1, 2020



What Did Charlie Ch.
See From The Upside Down

Here comes Charliе Ch. winded as a toy
-        You, idiot/ he whispers to me/
and he turns himself upside down all of а sudden
and he hooks himself with his long feet on the tightrope,
he lets my blood flow unstoppably on the wire of a nerve fibre
he sharply lifts the tails of his little tailcoat
one by one
with the kicks of his heels
he becomes a dot among the dots...
What did Charlie Ch. see from the upside down?
We were eating fish – he was carefully sucking the bones of the shoe
/I – the tacks of the sheefish/
we were throwing the remaining to the garbage cans
which were hopping from the orgasm-m-m-m-m-m of the cats
-        Hurry up, Charlie, hurry up
A volcano that turns into typhoon
(you don’t see it) your foot is stuck on the floor with a chewing gum,
and it is already clear that it is a giant from the waist to the head
and he is shooting at us, oh, he is shooting at us from the distance!
-        Hurry up, Charlie, detach yourself! Free yourself!
You are in love. Such a mess! You are in love Charlie
/the head of your soul is out of the skull/
A black rock, a sad one
is hovering in my head, right now, Charlie
The typewriter is beating out of my heart,
and the sheet is hopelessly white, although electricity went off...
Although electricity is gone I know that deep down in the white
I feel
My blood is close/ to the other side/ And it is time for me to wake up,
although I don’t know where...
You... You may have been laughing from the upside down, haven’t you, Charlie?

Black-And-White Rushing Town

With left and right epilepsy
of the lashes
all in love
on your knees, you fall, Charlie,
in a rush, in a rush
with the left and the right fly
quickly, quickly
/or with a faintheartedness too fast/
you juggle
with the cheekbones in the black-and-white rushing town
------ all of a sudden
Rolled over by the great
Mechanism /levers, gearwheels, springs
and so on/
you salute from the full-blooded Firer
with toothbrush moustache /identically overlapped/
with a balloon in which the world is inflated
you juggle, you salute, you juggle /stand straight and
tuck your stomach in!/ juggle Charlie
while the gravitation is hovering
and the laughter is blowing us
and until the world bursts - - - - - and I /what I?!/
where am I /?/
- Well, here you are, here – between the right
And the left fly Charlie

On Earth As It Is In Heaven

I pulled the thinnest emberlike twig
that spreads warmth in the darkest room
of this winter with white snowflakes
that are about to bloom -
on earth as it is in heaven.

The twig pulled the branch full of fruits
in the time in which we exist not ripened
to die nor for another birth –
on earth as it is in heaven.

The branch pulled the root out with the whole time,
the root pulled the ground, and I asked the ground
to forgive me and to give me back all my inconsistent “I”
in just a moment of a wonderful day –
on earth as it is in heaven.

It was the thinnest twig with sun without buds
that I pulled gently
for my mind not to stop because of the
nonexistence and I wished for the future to exist –
on earth as it is in heaven.

The Leviathan Of My Sigh Of Flame

is this mountain silent on the isotypes of the fear –
no, that has nothing to do with the night;
is this wind silent with the wild cold moon –
no, no that has nothing to do with the wolf’s whining;
is this fire silent with all of its paths leading towards itself –
no, that has nothing to do with the darkness;
is this thunder released by the pupil silent –
no that has nothing to do with the day;
is the mosaic of lights far away from my home silent -
no, no, that has nothing to do with the city;
are the memories awakened by the uterus of the dream silent,
no, that has nothing to do with the mornings’ tranquility;
are my friends in front of the TV silent –
no, no, that has nothing to do
with the electrons that fizzle in an absent time;
is the clear thought of this sky silent,
skinned and pulled out as a lamb’s skin –
no, that has nothing to do with the blue and the soft white clouds;
is the consciousness like a segment in the time silent –
no, no, that has nothing to do
with the boundlessness of our repeated awakenings;
is the peace of ancient sapphire
grinned with the angles of a new aesthetics silent –
no, that has nothing to do with the Sun’s braking,
no, that has nothing to do with the fidelity, the wisdom and the modesty,
nor with the pain, the conciliation and the eternal life;
are the rings with which we are vividly bind in the chain silent
no, that has nothing to do with the freedom, nor with the justice;
is the sword silent, the sword that is the closest to the wisdom –
no, no, that has nothing to do with the wolf gone wild from the blood
that follows us on the isotypes of the fear –
no, no, that has nothing to do with the mountain, nor with the fire
towards whom all of the paths are leading,
but only one that is inside shows us the humanity;
is my leviathan silent between the water and the fire –
no, no that has nothing to do with taking away of the breath,
that has to do only with my sigh of flame...

Today, A Man Should Remember

Today, a man should remember
to turn off the mobile phone, the computer and
the internet,
the television, the wars, the murders, the tsunami,
the nuclear power plants that are leaking radioactivity,
the gigantic mutations of the molluscs
tossed on the shore by a totally new evolution,
the little and the big dictators
that juggle with the fossils of the history
like with decapitated human heads
that stare into our eyes shamelessly
and tell us jokes about Houdini,
and then - the polar vortex
that stops the game of the lakes’ waves,
and carves the iconostasis of the frozen Dante’s hell, in the waterfalls,
and then - the ozone holes  and the light that turns us into ashes
like a film tape with the Sun that we have given up long time ago,
and then - the digital alarm clock,
the shaving machine and the alarms –
simply – all the electronics around us,
in which we dive deep into like electrons in binary numbers
that tell us on the monitors like inconsistent many samples of “I”,
except –
If he could remember to replace the pacemakers’ battery
on time,
if his heart is weak.
Then, he could forget the time
and make his first footprints on the innocence of
the snow…



BORCE PANOV was born on September 27, 1961 in Radovish, The Republic of North Macedonia. He graduated from the ''Sts. Cyril and Methodius'' University of Skopje in Macedonian and South Slavic Languages (1986). He has been a member of the “Macedonian Writers’ Association” since 1998. He has published: a) poetry: “What did Charlie Ch. See from the Back Side of the Screen” (1991), “The Cyclone Eye” (1995), “Stop, Charlie” (2002), “The Tact” (2006), “The Riddle of Glass” (2008), “The Basilica of Writing” (2010), “Mystical Supper” (2012), “Vdah (The Breathe of Life)” (2014), “The Human Silences” (2016), “Uhania” (2017), “Shell” (2018); and several essays and plays: “The Fifth Season of the Year” (2000), “The Doppelgänger Town” (2011), “A Dead-end in the Middle of an Alley” (2002), “Homo Soapiens” (2004), “Catch the Sleep-walker” (2005), “Split from the Nose Down” (2006), and “The Summertime Cinema” (2007). He has also poetry books published in other languages: “Particles of Hematite” (2016 - in Macedonian and Bulgarian), “Vdah” (2017 – in Slovenian), “Balloon Shaving” (2018 – Serbian), and “Fotostiheza” (“Photopoesis, 2019 – Bulgarian). His poetry was published in a number of anthologies, literary magazines and journals both at home and abroad, and his works are translated into English, Ukrainian, Slovenian, Serbian, Croatian, Bulgarian, French, Catalonian, Mongolian, Albanian, Romanian, Polish, Chinese, and Danish language. Panov works as the Counselor for Culture and Education at the municipality of Radovish, and he is also Arts Coordinator for the “International Karamanov’s Poetry Festival”, held in Radovish annually. Poetry from Borce Panov

No comments :

Post a Comment