I acknowledge that my life now is a bunch of rotten stumps where the wasps make nests, smashed a string of pockets and unmade beds, a long procession of days of short breath and bewilders.
I understand the pain that goes from tooth to toe from the foot of the eyelids, the eyes and words with identical electric fury.
I note that today trying to run I cut my left nipple. Yet this
frantumaglia, these aridissimi showers I'll save something, if I want to give respite syncope.
For the rest, I live here and bad flooding
books, putting your thumb on the palate.
A methodical approach to the chemistry of falling in love: peace in capsules and a hide is always the same as a dog of paper.
I know nothing of my navel, and even that of Charlotte.
Father teach me the way in this path of blood, and holy mother
fierce I do not bite.
I preserve the meat to rot until the time of the bite.
Father show me the way in this path of blood,
sacred mother and greedy I do not bite. I
that hold the meat until the time of the bite to go crazy.
Women cycling, fishing
the hair on the face of the morning,
breaks scented
the clutches of the case.
Hunger, the pitcher, the buttons.
arc, buttons and silk.
I celebrate the futility of exhausting any note,
whenever I was with her,
this slow, withering
invincible and rust which has eaten up the signals.
The unknown discipline hunger Serbian fertile sleep waiting for me on the other side of river.
