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Soul of the Big City The Enemy of a God is Time So Little
The Icons of Our Imagination YOU A ruinous castle...
2,000 Cloudy The Travel
Warrior Men The Return The Heat of the Arm
Warrior Men The Return
The Heat of the Arm
What Do You Seek from the Waste? Words
Like An Old Town's Plans
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Soul of the Big City


are like funny caps

(tortured by people)


my healthy thoughts

The shop windows

big mouths

ready to swallow my soul

Bright tin snake creeps

dusty breath into my body

I see so many souls

flying like fogs

in the dark air

slowly suffering the torture

of light bodies

Their faces

distorted moons

changing over time

Oh, soul of the big city night!

You blow me up to youth

on a skyscraper terrace

staring from all sides

at the secret sins that weaken

grown up

from body depths

Hymns in praise

on the ruin of a cloud

making circles to belong

punched by the sun into my eyes

The Enemy of a God is Time

The enemy of a god is time
The catarrh of dreams
In white flakes
Diaphanous rivers
In the orange sky

The sky with gray stones
Blows heat into my fingers
The wind-plane with colored nails
The rose ears hung
By the diamond eyes of blinds

Fake eyes of the people
True eyes of the beast,
The enemy of a god is time
That empties the days
With a colored blade cut!

I wedged, my God, in the passing
With my hands empty to search

So Little

Dreams less than dreams

Men less than men

Why are all so little

in this land?

Tell me, my dear, tell me!

Lady with legs-reels

with parts spread in order

like an experiment

Tell me, my dear, tell me!

Use any word you like

I am here to listen

the murmur of your skin

like an iron sheet being torn

Tell me, my dear, tell me!

Why is everything so little

in this land?

The Icons of Our Imagination

When the icons of our imagination hang

like leaves of a half dead tree

dropping away with the flight of time

The self restricted land

will grow smaller day and night

Their naked bodies will look so lonely

surrounded by vanity

evoked by inspiration;

then the icons of our imagination will hang

like beads of a fake myth

Then memory should be deducted

from the tree;

and buyers will appear in droves

squeezed into long paradox queues

while the rest

-the ignorant-

will wonder


We came to play

with the sunny ball

on the cotton valley

Sharpening trees were spread

Under the small town bell

shivered the pigeons

I was then on the top

So top

to be hanged by the song

And the magic carpet

of the mountain top

took my voice hanged

for the travel long

Stone without legs

draw for me a lonely line

on my face thrown

on the morning mirror

A ruinous castle...

A ruinous castle is my soul

knights and mistresses

pass by the ruins

The dust

spares the mind

that swirls the spectres

The sun

burrows his head

under the stones

heating the fingertips

Beetles stress the life thread

The mystic shivering

of the dead grass

wipes out the memories

(they flame up, sometimes

stronger in the glowing sun)

The ruinous castle,

the smell of sea,


burst singing in the mind's masts:

"A ruinous castle

is my soul."


Empty your soul

humble the proud snake

cross your hands

deeply for salvation


Surrounded by the clouds

My stomach swallows the thunderbolts

The clouds of hell

make me deaf

Veils of tears

turn around

The shape of pain

is your image,

your sweet image

and I can't see

It's my tears, my eyes

and I can't hear

The balloon beyond me

flies me up,


And I kiss you from the heights,

My eyes

The Travel

Travel talks

like boats

The water travels with them

The crazies travel with them

These that I can't see

creep in my eyes

How to settle

the trees with so many leaves

The nights become sick

Wrong things sicken

The split is valued more

The query is called travel

You always remember

because the burning is behind the shadow

and in front the trees

I count the missing leaves

The crazies travel around me

and someone told me:

"They missed the boat!"

Warrior Men

Pale figures were creeping

snake thirsty

under the vertical sun.

The sand was sparkling

grinding her sharp blades in their eyes.

The memories

were following them like crowns.

Their footprints were vanishing

as the dry wind was blowing in the holes.

The day nailed at high noon

hanging her glaring hands on their shoulders,

leading them to the strange world.

They had seen the pain

that breaks in coins the wind

in little deadly whirls.

The cannibal tramp

to flutter the soul's wings

in the vast


Leading the stifling arm of the road straight ahead,

their alienated bodies were stored in a dream.

An ink!

Free like death's suspicion,

elusive like water hills,

faith in suspense

following the endless waterfalls' advice.

They got off the martyrdom,

jumped into the ink

and had fun with known and unknown,

enemies and friends,

patrons in the knocked up water shelter

till the proper time

that was hardly kept off

by explicit orders.

Short life at death's door.

They reveled

till to be forgotten forever by death,

since best death is to remember

- free and easy - for awhile

the moment of death

The Return

I return to your heart

A long trip over the sea

The sea of your leaps

A trip without return

A love without return

The Heat of the Arm

The heat of the arm

took the spring weather legs

dominating his silver ears

the rope-ladders of the leaves

He flowed fresh

over the white marble

balanced his wet cheek

And his scorched tongue

squelched thirsty:

Oh, night, you, beloved!

What Do You Seek from the Waste?

What do you seek from the waste?

Have-nots hang around there

children over nappy

from the wind and they jingle

Drink my virgin water, drink

the shy water as it comes

an ugly bird

out of the river's bank

What do you seek from the waste?

Flit there the trees

every shape, every day

from the wind and they jingle


Sandy words of the wind

that travel over the words

that penetrate heaven

The hole is the sun

that speaks out lost words

In the night once

the moon pushed them

one by one over the sea

Words alone

grow one by one in my eyes

My eyes, my eyes, my eyes!

Spread words over the sand

and the sand leaks to heaven

then I die

because my sun is the wound

and the blood is what is left over the words

because all the words will never fit into a wound

Flame, you open your palms

and boil the water under my legs

The cauldron overflowed

and the words burned the bodies

Words immortal!

Company of death and song

Words that clean

their naked bodies in the rain!

Am I the only

half word half man?

Like An Old Town's Plans

Like an old town's plans

a leaf shows up in your mouth

charmed by the horizon

The blue was purified

Men came

like prophets with stone-teeth

white hair:


few and bright

alabaster boxes

hiding toys inside

from the burning sun

I don't trust silence anymore

dreams don't heal me

In the blue

-so purified-

leaves were spread all over your body

like an old town's plans