> The Postcard

The Postcard

Par |2019-01-23T13:21:04+00:00 3 octobre 2012|Catégories : Blog|


Lately we are going to the woods very often
Woods are for grow­nups
Early mor­nings as well
When we are not slee­ping
When we are not drea­ming of ships

For grow­nups is clo­se­ness
For grow­nups are lenses
Microscopes and washing machines

Laying around the streets
Used up knees
Rolled up in a blan­ket like a bur­ri­to
Freedom is cor­pu­lent
Freedom is fat jeans
Freedom is calo­ri­fic
Has grea­sy palms
Cracked heels

The car­pet at the main square is soa­king up
The hun­ger

Beyond the train cur­tains
Cats are wrig­gling
Cockerels are dis­tur­bing
Earings* are gro­wing
Night and day* is gro­wing
Quiet bru­ta­li­ty is brea­thing
Common as nose blea­ding
Boys are gro­wing

Boys and fists

At the end of the day
She envies you for
Ocean fre­sh­ness of monu­men­tal
ver­ti­go high concrete-queens
That are ente­ring through your win­dow
Through which legs, new­co­mers are pas­sing through
Big eyes

She envies you for lone­li­ness
For fara­way­ness


*in ser­bian mind­ju­sice  and dan i noc mean earings and night and day, but in the same time are the names of flo­wers that people are gro­wing in sub­urbs