Room 160

September 11, 2016

in the middle of this cloister,
a garden of daisies and yew trees
in too theatrical a gesture
you hold your forehead in your hands
to hide from the sun
malignant like Google & his kin
your pointless crying
the small size of your vanities
but fate taught you truces are risky

(neither the clouds are friend to man)

… fever as mean of expression,
death as an atemporal blossom,
locks not getting gray,
etc.

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2 Responses to “Room 160”

  1. Deborah Kelly Says:

    A-temporaI bIossoms dropping and repetaIing, from cores fatted with seeds, and now the season hands you its invitation. This is a door you go through awake and consenting, or one you go through kicking-in your own eyes.


  2. […] Ci sono poi tre nuove stanze: 158, 159, 160. […]


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