Wednesday, August 11, 2010


O climb ye to the highlands
For there you shall see
A baby llama with snow white fur
Gateway to the sun

Creator of all fragile and vulnerable elements
Do you not see the dried snot on their faces ?
The white crust at the corners of their mouths ?

How they thirst !!

This is our plea
For high are we

Jumbling carrots he pretended to know intuitively
A past was forming

Away from the courgettes and the aubergine clouds
Wavering above the hamburger stand
A wickety wackety giant-sized bun
Atop the clattering van
Rooftop people waiting
Fire burning with no condiments in sight
A masked broiler snickers between the crimson flames

A man yells emblazoned with fires of the past
Youth shadows spread along the awning
A young pigioen landing and shitting in your
Coke with lemon

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