| = Dragos, | Doru Dorian David [24.Apr.10 15:58] |
| iata un poem venit de la George: GEORGE VASILIEVICI GEORGE VASILIEVICI (Romania), born in 1978. He studied Economics, but later became a member of the Avantgarde group Asalt. He is editor of the poetry section of the cultural review Tomisin Constanța. He has published four books of poetry, the latest in 2006, titled A Room with Two Rooms. He lives and writes in Constanța, and whenever given the opportunity in Paris, Montpellier, Amsterdam. ROOMS I enter this silence of a body out-loud. The lights are off. The doors are locked. Dwellers sleep, their dreams pulled o’er eyes so light doesn’t disturb them. It’s a good build. I heard, as well, that they sell flats ‘round Here. That it’s a good ‘hood. Very close to the Heart. Just open the door and meet her face to face. Love, that is. When she was little, she rang the doorbells and ran. Until they called the cops. ‘Cause we work here, we don’t love. She was tripping every time and falling down the stairs. I would take her home in my body and Bandage her. I was singing to her, swinging her on my feet. I was puting her to bed. She enjoyed staying over through the night. She was feeling safe. I was covering her. Come morning, she was minding her own. She loved taking the lift at departure. The lift in our new building only goes up, though To heaven, and it’s busy most of the time. It’s the main tourist attraction of the city. When she grew up, my body grew too small for her. And some part of hers were left outside me. She sensed me better than I could sense her. At every entry she would come to meet me. I couldn’t get out of her anymore. Then I became just a tiny summerdress. Then a pair of underwear Then a silk stocking Then a daily pad. Then just a headband. Then an internal tampon. Then toilet paper. After a while, I became a tatoo. Until, only recently, I was allowed To rest forever on her lips, becoming the shine in her smile. Translated by Nic Ion Sarbu ei da: "Și vrei frate George să mai transmit că-ți plimbi silueta după Mincu Marin cu lungi mersuri prin Assissi ori Toledo tu fiind San Francisco-al lui El Greco" Un poem asemuind o troiana... te arunci in ea si inlauntru, stratificarea gustul trecerii... mirosul anotimpurilor... un spatiu-timp petrecut si viu! | |
| = despre George Vasilievici | Dragoș Vișan [24.Apr.10 17:10] |
Doru Dorian, cred te doare mult plecarea poetului, prozatorului și eseistului G. Vasilievici. Da, viața lui George a fost numai cât războiul de treizeci de ani. Citesc din romanul său "Viseptol" înțelegând în primul rând că denumirea 'medicamentelor' și cunoașterea amănunțită a efectelor pe care le descria și care l-au teleghidat să scrie autobiografic și fantast în ultimii zece ani reprezintă o încercare de a arunca balastul existenței care i-a fost dată. Mulți ar putea să condamne acest gest, dar el a avut totuși conștiința să tragă mult cu ochiul dincolo, în intervalul halucinant "Viseptol" - roman editat la editura Ta, pentru colecționari, 13 exemplare - și s-arate că pe-acolo nu se trece. Eu am exemplarul ștampilat de autor, cu nr. 9, martie 2010. | |