Wednesday, November 25, 2009

A silvery darkness came into the room
He escaped by boat and calmed a storm
“The riding crop is for your next visit,”
And when I was seated on it,
He watched the obscure corners of the planet
And took out the trunk coated in velvet
“With the end of my breath, the beginning of yours,
You are at the position of the old sorcerers”.
And he never heard a philosopher farewell,
And whispered tender obscenities in my ear.

Elva Jozef

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