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birch tree with bull
poetry [ ]
transmodern

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
by [taras el bulba ]

2006-09-28  |     | 





I don’t use to be young any
longer – too seldom my mornings
begin with kisses on mouth
or on crest

closer and closer
is heaven whirling around my nape
and a pack of flies dream of me
crucified on the window

I don’t use to defrost all
of a sudden whether it’s spring
to me or not

from brown to azure

look!
while falling
the shank hits the belly

on runs again and
again


.  |













 
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