Little Caprice

Oh Caprice, Little Caprice
Real true girl
So soon down the
Slippery road
Now that I know your name
I don't love you anymore
Little Caprice, choked up today
Take it while you're young
So soon will be over
Slippery time crawls
Up your thin body
Caprice, Little Whore
All that I ever had
Lonely as I am

Holy seances

holy seances
abandoned babies along the road
black shadows crawling up to the fledged church
and two boys wrestling beside a lost meaning
curious are the instances of the day
malignant the realms of the truth today 
utterances has no place yet here

Quanta-love

and since inflows of quanta-love have come to me so quickly
I can only take a quick glance at them only to see them disappear before my eyes,
backdrop
and then a ray,
a shout,
a woman,
a cat,
a car,
my lungs,
a watch,
sunset,
startling bugs,
darkness,
a cold body on the bed,
an empty corpse calling my name,
my hand reaching it,
scared sight,
quanta-love has come to me today

Up to the cloud

Up to the cloud
Some pens madden; starvation
Worsens.
Everything's shit,
Up to the cloud,
And beyond

From the culminating thing

It advances a sudden blindness,
the threshold of the midday is expanded.
Almost I can smell the sap flowing through the squeaking darkness.
The ear of a child is opened in loneliness
without nobody noticing.
Bewitched rumors live there now.
It moans the crater that shelters the night.
Is a man dressed in moth-eaten rags,
is a boy without future the one that ploughs the flat land.
It looks at me from the culminating thing,
moves away,
the highest pens get weak.
The air has turned into nitrogen,
the light penetrates the hour in the soil.
Of pollen, she is of pollen as the flowery rose-bush!
I fix my foot in the mute levee.
I revive.
Yes, I am suffering and jump inside my veins.

Fulfilled air

A leaf howls and fades
on having rushed for the branch
and the charm of the night
is twisted in your neck
Then it rains slowly
and the T.V. says nothing
while a tear collapses across your face
Then it gets dark on the lawn
and the source leaks a gilded thread 
up to the rosy destruction
The tangles of pink horses and the clouds of dogs
whirl in the window
scarcely in the radio we listen
that it has dawned
and then we feel the slow breeze
And the small perfume of the flower
floods the fulfilled air

Behind burnished crystal

In the dew
the drop inside the drop
in the eyes of a cat
a dark thunder advances
without dread and the sparkle
of the night is grafted on the corridor
towards your house
behind the door you wait
the dawn without return
under the willow the child hums
in the well the gray and greasy water
ferments the upcoming season
that already approaches too much to your indefinite body
behind the burnished crystal