since I read Jung
I feel
of slurry into the chest
- not what I said?
a moment, in units of Misfortune
perfect way to balance a defect in
thickens and then to think how many promises
eaten by worms in the body, instead
we are flying to the last temple
reached on steps carefully moved
as I told
footprint footprint on
a complaint, is that shit coming back ...
where it stands dissolved and the caress of empty
chimes?
talk all night if disposed of in the eddies of the heavenly saints
if I close my eyes it's you that I look
dumb and helpless ... I was the seamstress or
(with an escort of good weather
in the eye of each needle) if torn
but rest in a lake of lava
sheets with the arms
- is that I have only ever written love poems, for that matter
lever
hands from the face of only premises that are pending
ray sky from a sheet of
paper and all sorts of vision
draw a house on the hill with the garden
and a seaport without people
- Mature age I do not want me to play ...
that cardboard cutout clouds
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