Lorbeere's Profile
About me
About me
Over your body the clouds go
High, high and icily
And a little flat, as if they
Floated on a glass that was invisible.
Unlike swans,
having no reflections;
Unlike you,
with no strings attached.
All cold, all blue. Unlike you -
You, there on your back,
eyes to the sky.
The spider-man have caught you,
Winding and twining their petty fetters,
their bribes -
So many silks.
How they hate you.
The converese in the valley of your fingerd, they are inchworms.
They would have you sleep in their cabinets,
This toe and that toe, a relic.
Step off!
Step off a seven league, like those distances
That revolve in Crivelli, untouchable.
Let this eye be an eagle,
the shadow of this lip, an abyss.
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