jagged

life is jagged
it sticks with doggish eyes to your ankle
and asks for fondling
at the border of the wasteland
where the long black engine whistles from time to time

but life is jagged and has no pity
alike the human brain seen under microscope
it has an extended area if you unfold it
each little street from the slums bears the name of a saint
there the scent of barbecue and beer mixes with incense
the magicians play tough games
forcing the neighboring constellations
to disappear
they bury them over the heads of everyone
under pleated and fanciful dresses

and fog falls in for the people who died for saintly matters
those who don’t understand the stubbornness of the bull
compelled to fight
with its bloody horns
there is the Moon climbing on the sky heavier and heavier
red or yellow
jagged on its edge like an old weeding knife

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Categories: My poems in 2016 | Tags: , , | 3 Comments

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3 thoughts on “jagged

  1. Cuțitul de tort? Păi… mno, dacă are mâner negru mat, îl revendic…

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