On the mould of faces...
On the mould of faces It erects its revelations - The Distance A Treasury with canvases: The fallen angels’ distortions In the breach of a gun-port A monk’s body Is flowing by Face down The sun with the ways Of a sunny-side up On a tonsure In the throat it ramifies Gets covered up with ripe symbols Meat pops out of the wound Vultures stare from the card Of apocryphal steel In happiness It rushes to relish its being On a matting of a delivery Woman’s suffering Opposed to an ability To not conceive An island flies by Face up Footprints Mould of bodies in coitus Enormous timid cubes Of silence Waves are emerging In a fashion Of Chinese fans It drank blood Licked it from her body Whiter than white The moons chuckle The newly never born Turn into coal Kiss to Death A commercial traveller The one who gets rotten On a sceptre Among the leaves * Written April 2nd, 2002 © on Apr 01 2002 07:02 PM PST 0 • 12
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"On the mould of faces..."