you say that there are many dead soldiers here and take her to a runway
a wise old woman comes from the sea to cook until the bones melt, two hours before the end, throw the gills, grind and freeze
constantly eating anything, swallowing and throwing up crashing on the streets bleary with yearning, lusting for the next site
hurry up, time is running out children are being abducted on urban junctions
entering into courtyards of Odessa you sing very well swans, black lake
wait under the bridge covered with a bed sheet, you come back here in order to go
who are you? what are you doing here? running with wounded feet
one can see the hour in cats’ eyes there is a dark stain in a broad field stabbing to death swans’ reflections
