I.
the fresh wound
tells
me to climb
to sing I
cannot tell whether the door is valid
or if it just pretends to be near
II.
spring pretends to know –
the jar of heaven
tells a tall story
I listen the ink
dries sooner than
the parchment can
say goodbye I listen –
there is a night some
where willing to
be stone there is a
need sometime to be –
there is always time
III.
an unflower pretends –
the grain of resistance
slows down the intake
of bloodalcohol
as you slump into an un
dead sea you wake up
to unknowns we talk
of blood, alcohol