Unisons
*
for me, it is thinking with a wooden voice; it has ambushed me. guardian of nothingness, astray in a drum.
*
cursing the scrub, look, plants are mocking us. ricocheted arrow of our disgust will now grow from within. plague of small misfortune, oh you colorful dim dreams and you steamed little runaway birds.
*
(a debate)
unforeseen young enemy or an arrival like a spitting bubbly part of the speech of the consonant army opposite the beauty of the gang of coiffure vowels singing with their tails in the muscular speed of morning
*
(Bertolt Brecht)
looking right and left looking right and left not seeing anything really not seeing anything until the misty coat until the path through black woods the path through black woods establishes a tree a thread a shivering evil
*
Beauty passing down the street on one leg. Red tufts paint the sky, a hidden sign, a question of evil and torment raised.
*
a police fly hits the gong. flesh drips from the window. call out that I have dissipated.
*
a poem is a cluster of horror imprisoned in a pillar
*
I hear you are shrinking (some city went under the name winter). How did it let out its melody? Everyone suffers from routine, indeed, forgetting the flowers. And everyone there quietly feasts (attention, correction). They kicked her out and as soon as you realize, she laughs, well, it’s over.
*
(Patriotism)
I will take the sabre and inscribe a sound in a piece of air. A kind of stately melody, foreigner’s gait planted in the path. A flock of souls from the shrank. A kind of job in bass, a gray-greenish operatic ghost.