The Joyful Diary of a Flying Fish
poems and reflections by
Gheorghe Nistor

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ISBN # 0-9673867-5-6
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Gheorghe Nistor is the author of The Joyful Diary of a Flying Fish. He is living and teaching in China. In August of 2001, he came to Denver after spending time with his family in his native country, Romania. We enjoyed meeting Gheorghe and look forward to working with him. Gheorghe Nistor is a poet, world traveler, artist, photographer, and teacher. Born in 1958 in Romania, Gheorghe escaped from the country in 1982. He has trekked through much of Europe, Turkey, Mexico and North America, and has lived in France, Italy and Canada. He became a Canadian citizen in 1987. He earned his B.A. in Anthropology and Sociology at Concordia University in Montreal. Gheorghe is currently teaching English in China and is completing a Masters Degree in Medical Anthropology at the University of Montreal.
Mr. Nistor’s writing exudes a sense of eastern philosophy. It encompasses the universal human experience. He is able to confront the destructive forces of materialism, consumerism, and environmental contamination, yet leave the reader with great hope.

From The Joyful Diary of a Flying Fish by Gheorghe Nistor:

My brain is an Egyptian obelisk. Facing the sun rising from the desert, I collect strange visions. I see myriads of constellations falling on earth like snowflakes. Burning the seeds of greed petrified in human’s hearts. I see the wind setting ablaze the spectrum of hatred clogged in people’s veins. I see the earth trembling like a leaf tossed away by the whispers of photonic wrath. I see the solar orb slowly surrendering its motion. I see thunderbolts illuminating the viscous darkness of abysmal depths.

I see the devastating webbings rising from the mist of the Southern Star. I see relics of civilisations that are yet to come. I see them bleeding in the bowels of basaltic eons. I see them sweeping freely the barren shores of the oceans. I see the mountains toppling like an avalanche of madness. Splashing into the boiling mantle of this earth.

I see the bark of the birch tree crying out loudly in the taiga. Unrolling itself like a magic scroll. I see the tundra yelling desperately at the Northern Star. I see babies vomited from the rotten wombs of lifeless souls. I see them howling as if packs of hungry wolves, biting the dry nipples of the mother-sky. I see eternity drowning itself in a world without fish! I see eternity turning blind. The universe bleeding voicelessly as the Sphinx crumbles to dust. I see the voice of Life telling me to become light!

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