SMALL TALK AT BUKOWSKA AND LIBELTA: A poet in Poznan. - Poetry Chapbook, 2012.

“Krabo” They say moon is the same for everyone Streets are hostile or friendly Nothing depends on your luck You exist cause you’re taught to...

Friday, December 28, 2012

"Feather on Shingle"

I'm feather on shingle
Chalk on the sidewalk
Sketch of buffalo skull

I’m treasures in death drain
Pawn on the cardboard
Vapor of planes flying by

Live for your place
Damn, write where you are
If I had your address
We'd be truer to art

You’re broadening your senses
I’m keeping mine restrained
So no one can afford the price
Extraterrestrial markets pay
For a second in my brain stream
It ain’t no ego thing
Cause once they dig inside me
With phosphorescent limbs
They indulge in the cosmic nothing
Where words are of no use
And flesh is just a memory
Bound to fade and lose

I’m pinto clouds of dawn
Blaze voice on the saddle
Any shade you pick

I’m dancing dead crusaders
Masts of void galleons
Crumbling into sleep

At night the shade falls slower
Some say it’s poetry
To me it’s just a pint of
Assorted shrubbery
So drink while night allows you
Take that sweetening spear
Leave poetry to the restless
To them such words are dear

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