пʼятниця, 2 серпня 2013 р.

Marianna Kijanowska

I'm sitting on the seashore
In the way if it really was the sea
and i guess there's another shore somewhere
and it's not the world's end

as if it was that end
and not this one
.........

*** I'm an axe who cuts the tree in two

'cause i am steel and tree
flesh from flesh from the one
i'm killing
there will be arm
and there will be paper
and a verse on the paper
steel and tree

and tree
and steel of verse

for Kevin *
Light can be read as a paper
but from afar
air vanishes
and friction of letters
begins

* Saplings of the doors
from this and other sides
squeakers in the nest
don't breath but squeak
open the tree
close the eye
first the first one
then the second one
now blink
the air between the skin and core
cross it
and get back with easter
or later
when the squeakers on the saplings
will grow
and fly
* Thousand-orbed stone
as eye
but not as eye
but when as eye
i know
the doors are opened
when it's mostly painless
to look through yourself

light can be read as a paper
but from afar
Light can be read as a paper
but from afar
air vanishes
and friction of letters
begins
the clock under the skin
the one who react on the light
got no idea 'bout myself
got no idea that I shine
sometimes
as river does
and time then
does not
pursue me

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