Ezra is angry.
Ezra pulled me over the head again
It was morning, I got up and everything hurt and now!
all that talk of heartless poetry
it is not enough to support the palace of fantasy
bread shoes charming charming demimondena Death?
from ,,Večeře u Minského" /2016/
On the gun carriage E.P.
On a carriage of ghosts of running water glued to the red tail lights of death,
E.P. leaves and I wander through Venice,
the gondolas collide,
they shatter easily like couples in love in the early evening,
just like that,
it would be said.
just like that
/and E.P. is ...of course.... ...Ezra. /
I eat Ezra Pound at breakfast.
at breakfast I swallow Ezra Pound and the metric system of rail poetry
at breakfast I swallow hot coffee with milk sprinkled with a drop of hysteria
I take off the gravedigger 's socks
I take off the watery brioche
I'm cutting down,
falling to the heat of Your fireplace,
strike out with a match,
I will disappear with thousands of sparks,