Soft words about the end. Lubomír Tomik You're hovering over an ice field, silent scars cut into the body of the snow I haven't known you in a long time, blood drew soft words in the snow about the end, suddenly You are everywhere and the story begins.
from the ,, Dinner at Minski´s and other poems / 2O16 /
Read and recorded right here, in this shelter, in the winter, in the snow, but for You.
End of all words.
Lubomír Tomik
And for all those centuries,
crowds of oysters risk hugging mouths
and burst in,
silky curled lips beams
and barely resistant to The Wild Hunt of the Ghost of Love.
Soon,
hit me,
squeeze my heart and
launch a cannonade of words,
Beauty.
Je 19.března a venku, v nemocnici UH sněží…pohled z mého okna
PS.. uběhne pár minut…. Právě jsem si uvědomil tu ,,drobnou náhodu „… za tmy zveřejním báseň o sněhu…a o něco později opravdu sněží….a tedy píši sem, že bych rád něco..co už opravdu desítky měsíců nemám… napíši to tady na kus papíru tužkou, teď, vytvářím realitu.
Soft words about the end. Lubomír Tomik You're hovering over an ice field, silent scars cut into the body of the snow. I haven't known You in so long, blood drew soft words in the snow at the end. Suddenly You're everywhere ... and the story begins.
Covered in leaves. Lubomír Tomik Covered in leaves, covered with a clever stingray, in green leaves, sleepy. Until the caravans go astray, until the sand does not stain with blood, drops of sea, salt, sweat, Your tongue, is on their tracks. In the fallen leaf, her body withered,, beautified.
V listí zalitá. Lubomír Tomik V listí zalitá, vychytralou trnuchou přikrytá, v zeleném listí, ospalá. Dokud neodejdou karavany běd, dokud se písek, nezbarví krví, kapky moře, soli, potu, Tvůj jazyk, je jim na stopách. V opadaném listí, její tělo, uschlo, zkrásnělo.
