Diana Bosa Poems

He was like in that old Hungarian fairy-tale.
On the breast; on that tender, rhinestone skin
He held the Sun and the Moon.
...

"This morning, with her, having coffee.".
(Johnny Cash, when asked for his description of paradise)

A coffee stain on my desk; you left it behind,
...

I am like those SETI-scientists,
clinging on radiowaves;
noise-melodies from outer space,
questing after truth with huge teliscopes
...