Читать книгу On Malice - Ken Babstock - Страница 24

Don’t write to her. Perhaps she’ll love

you separated more.

‘On the fifth, because I will be

like your dress.’ Sometimes nobody

gives a mind in their head

the whole journey. We are not separated,

we are beforehand. Catkins, then burrs.

The lamp switched on prior to the journey

by throwing a switch at the dome’s posterior.

Grinding of teeth under the chestnut

on Etna. It’s as though

the summit invites a downgrade. Bark death.

Krosnayorsk. Light rain.