Friday, May 01, 2015

the epi

i am a continent
like Picasso likewise
tension  & cubicles in the comb
that yawns 4 water & stripes
& * stars of b-matter – beta
on banners turn to vignettes
drinking wine / breasts
of undead witches / i
becomes a dream
waking next to bridges
on piles of cat food / not cattle
boiling the water
over its banks
drowning all spoons
we fly to the rooftops
watch neighbours
on TV / die in Vienna
there is the epi
tailoring time