domingo, 16 de octubre de 2011


Quick fingertips of the rain rattle the strained drum of my nerves already for some days the evenings bawl like insatiable calves laden a roomful green with sere birch leaves of tomorrow windows open – blood clot circulates in the air heavily around the head furled wet, cold bed sheets with dense corners flapping their skinny hands time gives me a foggy kiss I´m asphyxiating it gets warmer I don´t feel the wings it feels good but already some black crows are wandering around...

Automatic "thought record": written in Latvian in 2005, translated 2011.
Image from Internet.

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