Decomposition (and how joyful and childish it is to talk about death, or Спокойнаяночь) yet supine because of death or only because of one day effort | may a rose blossom from the solar plexus, or a pinky mycosis; may flesh open wide at the paused stern height in order to offer a pearl or a black stone to who’s passing who’s handsome thief; hands are similar to ivies, eyes to opals pools for flies- all the apprehensions will be drank by grass Trezza 22 October 19 ______________________ untitled I do need it but I’d like to present you a vertebrae of my finest / I’d give it to you like the royal rings from trunk to heirs, and because of that hole in my back I would not fall like a boiled fruit, instead such as asps from the ditch some wings would bloom,something would,/ in order to repair, wipe out all our doubts, since I as I’m now whole and empty can’t. _________________________ wish May you be the dream of a sailfish, fresh fig and Dalco’s scythe edge; may you be loved by a dog, may your soul be nettle and bread like, fire and venom like, and your eyes like anemone and closed wings, their fundus may remember of a celestial web; may you live far from those who spasmodically look for a reason in any phenomenon […] may your back look like a aureus field, and your temples and thought like brambles packed with fruits, obscure spiders; may yesterday be less than exuvia, saliva dead leaf, used olive branch diadem; may your nervous teeth meet many sage leaves, and may your blood transform at any moon blade, your heart horse fiber and mantis; may your sky be godless, may your soil be a trench with holy worms, a rug of moss and sharp ferns; may your sea go mentally white, meditate green-blue, may that blue vomit silvery fish and tentacles curling for lemon drops; may you be like star and Siringe, Agdistis, intersexual Hellenic concepts, may you love when rain plays branches; may be damned time and its infernal wheel its swarming repetition of tortures and liberations revolutions and twists repeated to whip and nausea to grindstone and hustle of dumbs and war. may your right to be loved meet negligible abysses, unfold like fresh flour on clear wood or the clouds sliding off the mountain side. ____________________________ days pleasure and verse are triggered by knife beating on the chop board. Between them there’s a thin line of horse meat. Split the nerve Cut the suet in excess It might be diving foreheads in a rubber wall intestine canvas like quotidian membrane to make us wish to tear apart things nearly ended ; to creep on roots and moss naked, slaughter; to pour cheeks with ventricles juice. It’s a splendid night to be scared, it’s a splendid night to be melancholic,- moon hammers splits the nerve if full, cuts it in a glare if new May the sky desire this lives meet many scythes. Life pusillanimity walzer, we’d better roll ourselves in a dark wave, wear miserable aestheticism, and your kidneys, you enthusiast man, will be licked by hounds. II. after brushing the crack, pieces were connected with spit, with seaweeds and mucus ; drive with me tonight, place on my back ropes and lavenders as a living mummification rilling , and inside, nothing’s moving- Catania, 24 December 19 _____________________________ i giorni Il godimento e il verso li innesca il coltello che batte sul tagliere.Tra i due c’è una linea di carne equina. Spacca il nervo Taglia il grasso in eccesso Sarà il tuffare la fronte in una quotidiana membrana che sembra un muro di gomma o una tela di budello a farci desiderare di dilaniare cose appena finite ; di strisciare tra radici e muschi nudi, macello; di grondare le guance di succo di ventricoli. E’ una sera splendida per aver paura, è una splendida sera per aver malinconia di se stessi,- la luna spacca il nervo se piena come martello, lo taglia in un baleno se nuova Voglia il cielo che queste vite incontrino molte falci. Vita walzer di vigliaccheria, faremmo bene a rotolarci in un’onda nera, a vestirci di mesto estetismo, e le tue reni, uomo entusiasta, le leccheranno i cani. II. Sfiorato lo schianto, i pezzi erano collegati con lo sputo, con le alghe e col muco ; guida con me stanotte, poni sulla mia schiena cime e lavande come una mummificazione in piena vita che scorre, e dentro non si muove niente- Catania, 24 Dicembre 19
