BLOODY LIPSThe bloody woundOf the gladiatorGurgles out life’s end.The cries of acclimations from the standsFill the sky with raging tigers.Waving their arms about to incite the massesThe aging notables add an air of dignity to the arena.Making their separate entriestheyKNEELover the still-warm corpsesOf the young. Their withered lips they poseUpon the fresh flowing woundsAnd, to...
THE CURSEMay they neverReturn home at night…May you have no part of eventide,May you have no room of your own,Nor road, nor return.May your days be all exactly the same,Five Fridays in a row,Always an unlucky Tuesday,No Sunday,May you have no more little worries,Tears or inspiration,For you yourself are the greatest worry on earth:Prisoner!
Handcuffs weigh much more than gravestones.(from “Gratitude”)
ABYSSOur country livesAmong the deadAnd dies among the livingSometimes.
Innocent droplets of rainMake almost all eventsQuite natural.(from “A Rainy Day”)
Let them shoot us in the head,My blood will grow rootsand will blossom.