Friday, July 17, 2009


in a damp lilac dusk
to meet a sailor
that smells of african musk
with a sunburned neck
and the eyes -- very blue
realize for a second
that it is not you!
let out a cold grin
at your image inside my head
'cause tonight i don't give a goddamn
what's good and what's bad
bite his lips into blood
taste the metal of wine on his breath
just for one day --postpone his death
body to body like paper to glue
but the eyes --they have to be very blue.


Be cold.
She told
Do not attach
with your head
or your crotch.

Cut off your hands.
And bury your feet.
Swallow the air.
Don't touch the meat.

And when you think
about his soul
Do not think --
just see a hole.