3 poems (2021/12/23)

Wool

I'm going slowly
thin shiver
wool on a leash
clothes in a coat
stitched furs
pocket books decaying
amethyst ages and proud, unwavering, fiery faces
word always
boys girls as their own
not fed
sumptuous that girl
courtesan

Reservation

reservation
or your pickles
ticking, every house mocks you
with goods like gliding on your own Broadway
as always, they have met in raw glass for centuries
and olive candles
her naked body creaks
like her shawl on a thick plaster look
filled with weak scorpions
the fact that Sarah's second attempt at testimony faded
grown up together
joining hands with mother
which wraps itself in a halo in her arms
looking at the towers
break it or the saddles
sway over your bird

Eyes

follows the alleys is like broken
without his appeal if heads spin
keep it juicy and not meant to play
messed up his room
bare surviving body
and the gray collar crinkled old age and soft
brilliant beards, with eyes
indifferent redhead should bite
loops on the gray standing up still turned woman
her and her bodies judging the indolent night in harmony
swirling greens is an effort
rip off his coat-sleeve
by shaking its hinges or growth trades its eyes
flame or street
and the baby bounces them to the woman, with the balls
teary glow