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■ Pașadine în vers alb (73)
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2013-11-26 | [Acest text ar trebui citit în english] |
I am alone and therefore everyone says
that I stopped talking a long time ago more and more myopic I keep my eyes like a snail at the top of my ballpoint pen it smells like poppy seed cake and popping chestnuts walls are warmer than a charcoal fueled stove Raskolnikov is asleep on the upper shelf of my library I can’t tell stories about the fingers of the dead the paralytic elders the aborted children about the heart as a black box smoked on the inside by cheap candles I don’t want to doze off before the rain passing like like a stream through my blood would finally stop born more many times from a cherry petal I was so white that hungry wolves’ fangs reddened at their roots
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