Karma repair procedure

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Karma repair procedure

Stones
Memento
The cane
Wasp
The distance
The Gates of Otranto
Rainspotting
Karma repair procedure
Keats’ nightingale

every time I think of the Gates of Otranto
I almost instinctively have my trousers rolled.
I’m scared by such an enormous amount of water
that can at any moment find its way
into our beds and rooms
making every order of things
superfluous, odd or obsolete.
monsieur fat cook sighing for days on end
at the stern of the sailboat
tossing garbage onto the white crests
has struck a deal with the sharks.
he guards the ashes of our story in his pockets
– all those cigarette butts exchanged with care and kisses –
smiling constantly as if he’d been conspiring
with underwater mines.

2018-08-21T17:22:58+00:00 June 25th, 2009|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 66|0 Comments