-

Questions float without reply.
They’ve left wrinkles on my face.
And one large, blue butterfly
Has filled the room with death and grace.

-

Put on Liszt,
take off your glasses,
I am dancing
Just like Mars is.
You’ve been quiet,
White and clear.
Rooms are spinning
Just as we are!
And my fingers
(Strong and salty),
Chase your thighs,
And keep on hunting.
Every breath
Is glued to other,
Every child
Has killed its mother.

I smoked my pain
And scratched my meaning.
As Liszt turned
Into Puccini.

-

You tied your knees into a vine,
And your throat grew long and paler,
Lilacs bloomed out of your spine,
As the “yes” became the “later”.

-

I escaped your room in Paris,
And played with my small existence.
But I’m yours,
And it’s all pointless,
For this run produced no distance.