la forêt deviendra ineffable en automne
si la licorne d’or favorise une seule dryade
sans dommage pour elle-même
rêva encore l’hippogriffe
en tremblant, ses plumes presque cyans,
prêt à voler
au-delà de tout
le temps ne manque pas
pour ces mortels
qui n’ont jamais besoin d’autrui
pour rêver dans les nuages,
uniquement du sable
ne sont-ils donc que des hybrides
you’ll never understand me
o my friend
as my dog will never understand me
I was the steel child of my communist age
hard and beaten as a rock
deep and quiet
as a smoke cloud in the winter I was
fear my perfect toy
thousands worlds molded out of it
the joy of invisible theatre
the music of silence
words that nobody can remember today
spoken with courage and sorrow
I walk on cotton and cloud
or streets at random
and is nothing to do with autumn
(I’ve been thinking about this)
nights are thick
stretching like a duvet
over thin light
and flashbacks are drills
penetrating the walls of my fortress
(I am not going to talk about this)
...but your name is getting louder
and louder
in my head
and when I finally fall
asleep/ there’s an echo
[Jesus]:
Landslide put through my pace
landslide
has the grace
corpsalming me into
hollow corposants
incense to self-constriction
accelerating myself deadline
unperfection
ever so consanguine
reverse ampliation-
the contractile escape slid
the Code’s invisible ink
awaits me absorbtive
to implode amid.
The last tractile nadir-
veinal addiction
Blood, run out on me
Si aprono i colori del quadro sensitivo
con le luci inebrianti scaldate nel pastello
ed il cuore legge con tono emotivo
in lingua materna la legenda del castello.
Le frecce affilate delle zanne affamate
che si rifflettono nel loro vero specchio
si sente il odore di gocce profumate
e ancora il desiderio di un amore vecchio.
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