Time zone

It was night when the sea exploded.

We all rose with a salty gusto on our lips and a deafening silence of waves.

Midnight was entering when the flowers crystallized.

Asleep we felt, suddenly, the smell of leaves and stems, eclipsed until then.

Dawn was rising when volcanoes spread in underground rivers.

We woke up with an igneous and vaporous roaring below the earth.

It was day when the night evaporated.

In wakefulness we waited for the sky to darken while the heat raised and consumed us little by little.

It was midday when the clouds leaked to the earth.

A sticky silk covered us and there was no ceiling helping us against the burning sun.

Sunset was falling when the deserts cracked.

We heard the uproar and we saw rivers of sand and waves of silence reptating all over.

It was midnight when the air disintegrated.

We inhaled dreams of asphyxia, stretched arms and lips to catch the last wind burst.


Fast goes the family, the birds, the sea, the fishes.

Fast goes love, the welcomes, the farewells.

Fast the coitus, full speed the orgasm, the kisses, the good byes.

Fast the judgment, the prejudice, the hate, the devotion.

Fast, so fast, ipso facto, hurried.

Fast the food, the alcohol, the coffee that burns. Fast.

Fast the relationships, the executions,  s l o w  the revolutions.

Fast the censorship, the torture, the usury.

Fast the burning. Fast the reading.

Fast the deception and the disappointment. Fast and damn quick.

Fast the information, the fashion, the disillusion, the forgetfulness.

Fast the pleasure, slow the sorrow even if you rush it.

Fast the destruction, the annihilation. Fast. In a thunder.

Fast the bicycles, the moon, the batrachians. Fast goes life.

The sea in a glass of gin

Down at the bottom, there is a reflection, there is a place where he wants to be. To reach it he must drink it all. Quickly. Drink up.

It is not the sea, it is clearer, but it is as big and as comforting. He loves it. The sea that he is holding tight. Clear and beautiful.

He cannot stop looking down the glass, the beautiful sea he owns, he can see its waves, its dancing creatures, its possibilities. He smiles.

He is falling in love and falling sleep. He is smiling, the heaviness of his body giving in. The soft caress of life over him, loving him.

A soft wave is engulfing him, a numb peace taking over. He could hear distant noises and happiness all over. He is splendidly drowning.

Everything was slowly coming back, sweet torpor fading away, the poignant undertow emerging. He must look for it: the sea in a glass of gin.

This short story was originally published as tweets (@minafiction) and has also been published in Mina’s blog.


Time is measured in suns,

suns that navigate across the sky,

that enter and exit the vault of heaven,

that go up and down,

suns that warm up.

Time is measured in moons,

the ones that gave us light,

the ones that were not there,

the ones where we wanted to love,

and we did love,

the red moons at sunset.

Time is measured in waves,

the waves we ran away from,

the waves we dived in,

the ones we navigate over,

waves full of foam and salt.

Time is measured in words,

the ones we learned and forgot,

the ones we whispered and those we kept to ourselves,

the powerful and resonant

words we think.

Time is measured in paths,

those we walked and those we avoided,

those we created,

the paths that await us,

and those that drive us mad.

Time is measured in rivers,

those that bring us water and pebbles,

those that drag us,

the deafening rivers,

running inside us.

Time is measured in silences,

those we fear,

those that fall like a thunder,

those that get us together and get us apart,

the soft silences we look for.

Times is measured in gazes,

those we hide,

those we caress with and dive in,

the gazes we watch with,

those we understand and learn.

Time is measured in stars,

those that fall and die,

those that guide us,

the star that cover us,

with their light of distant suns.

Time is measured in caresses,

those we search with and those we find,

those we run through,

the caresses enlightening us

and opening our eyes.

Times is measured in suns,










The time is sand, is just sand.

The time is an hourglass.

 This poem has been published in the book “Larva” by Mina Polen.


Knife nails. Scratching.

Morse eyelids. Twitching.

Water feet. Freezing.

Foam liver. Drying out.

Balloon heart. Pumping.

Jelly brain. Melting.

Wire veins. Rusting.

Vegetal nerves. Rooting.

Crystal bones. Exploding.

Thorny lungs. Expanding.

Plastic skin. Tightening.

Charcoal heart. Hissing.

Stone muscles. Cracking.

Acidic bile. Running.

Boiling blood. Crystallizing.

Continuous synapse. Shouting.

Rope viscera. Twisting.

Wavy pleura. Reverberating.

Reptilian hair. Rattling.

Open mouth. Gashing.


Pain. Growing.



Kisses and murmurs
share a silence share a noise
they speak they rattle

Glazed bile and water vapour
share a lightness share a heat
they boil and they rise

Sweet dreams and hopes
share a sky share a night
they rise and they evaporate

Inner thoughts and steps
share a rhythm share a voice
they go back and they go forth

Death and oblivion
share a stillness share a cry
that lasts and that hurts

Contentment and fudge
share a bitterness and a lie
rancid and sweet

The sun and the moon
share a time and share a light
they come and they go

Hopelessness and rust
share corrosion share a bite
they go deep and down

Loneliness and mold
share a dampness share a cold
they break down they infuse.

Hope and sunshine
share a light share a warmth
they soothe they enliven

Fraternity and mist
share a continuity share a force
they permeate they flow.