Bloumání v ulicích Providence.
Wandering the streets of Providence. Lubomír Tomik From a soaked ditch flooded with blood and mustard Mrs. Defanti's body crawls on her back, It slid through the mud and men in uniform were leaking vitreous, The whites of whites whipped in a riot of vibrators. The first star in the sky in a moment I look into your eyes To those crematorium fires, The darkening blue of the sky pushes light beyond the horizon, Behind The Horizon Behind The Horizon Behind The Horizon compresses it until the moment of the coming Night, The red disk intersects with the silhouettes the last few remaining TV antennas, All palms pierced by Mrs. Defanti's heels You throw them behind your head and our hands come together bone intertwines with bone. United blood vessels fused with hearts, Night is coming in Arco cafe, Guests are poured cold coffee with a wink, Waving the wings of ravens with that eternal croaking : NEVERMORE Greasy black feathers soaked in rain with razor blades in which you don't dance much Mrs. Defantio is coming with an umbrella made of soapy male faces, the twists of the beard with foam fall on the faded lino with the sound of trampled candies at the foot of the gallows tree where the noose is long empty. Wandering the streets of Providence. All that someone else's skin they suddenly ride down. The period of FLESH is coming.