Midian Poet

Insufficient commodity.

Lubomír Tomik

From the lips of a blind car mechanic whistling sad and long
like vaseline,
I drank from the water blessed with the Hand, the Lips of Denim,
I want to drown in it,
inside you.

The radio passion on the middle waves started its way
regular broadcasting on the music syllabus,
in places where the keys last
and in the ellipse,
a lion sleeps in an ellipse.

Let's go
around
nights
eating
themselves
myself

When made of cement shoes
air bubbles and thoughts of you ran away
went to the surface behind the light,
air has become a scarce commodity.