ALEKSANDAR DURAVCEVIC

In Search of the Miraculous:
Time Lost and Regained

Endless emptied buckets in a vertical matrix that evoke
Both his ancestors’ action to honor those soldiers
Who defended Târgu Jiu and Kafka’s cryptic fable of
The rider who came away empty from a coal merchant.
It was he who relished the LIGHTNESS OF OBJECTS.
It hovers decidedly above the fatherland while
Mother Nature internalizes her humility,
Turns her body into unequal fragments of earth.
She is exposed to the elemental air for her agriculture.

A constellation of countless broken pieces of glass, resembling a
Falling star that is destined to cradle glimmering fractions of light
Quite unpredictably! Dissimilarity cries out for
Similarity of an imagined democracy in spite of the slogan
“Working Class Do Not Vote,” here and there, and everywhere.

Mysterious, enigmatic, and as pure as his elegance assumes,
Especially with the back of the left foot that barely touches the floor,
It’s true! On this occasion the reflection in the mirror is oblique
And unfathomable in translation. I did not know where the virgin was
When we needed her to welcome us through a different portal.
The one that lies beyond, that does not seem
To comply with the given.

It’s just “ANOTHER WINTER.” And
“There Is No Glory For Me,” as [he] looks to his left. And
“There Is No Glory For Me,” as [his] father looks towards his right.
There is no “VICTORY” except for the patina of time that
Welcomes the beauty of decay.
One certainty proposes two perspectives of one view.

The luminous moon prompted
The silhouetted tree to serenade her in the night.
She rises just as she aspires, by an increment of an inch
And less than a half to the right.
His intention was to deceive our assumption.
I, too, have “SOMEWHERE” to go!

I am promised more moisture in the atmosphere
And a rainbow that elevates hope and profound pleasure
Even in the darkest hours. How and why this picture was made
Is beyond my comprehension.
                                                 “SVI ONI” seems to imply that it’s
The air here that replaces the light.

“All of Them” suspend in pitched black squares
The different feathers that constitute the
Dissimilarity and similarity of an imagined utopia.
Like the two cylindrical rainbows that majestically reside in the
Two niches of porta della camera anteriore.
“SOMEWHERE” is here.
“TELL ME YOURS I WILL TELL YOU MINE.”
Like GOD and DOG, and a discerning atheist who has dreadful dyslexia
And still he is flexible and graceful everywhere he goes.
On one side is the “LAKE OF DREAM[s]”
On the other side “SEA OF TRANQUILITY.”

It’s impossible to choose which you & I, us, he, she, they,
Whoever would prefer.
Albanians thought [he was] Montenegrian
Montenegrians thought [he was] Albanian
Italians thought [he was] a Slav
Latinos think [he is] Italian
Blacks think [he is] French
French think [he is] one of their own.
Where do you & I, us, he, she, they belong?