Reward

I penned a sonnet to a girl, and
Found my heart was bleeding, bleeding
Raw emotions on that page, and I
Found I nearly wept, her beauty
Piercing, like a bullet tearing
Through these cardboard walls around
My soul, I penned a sonnet to a girl,
And with each word I lost me more,
I gave each part, each fragile part
To her image, to that picture of
Her in my mind, her grace like a
Perfect symphony, like Beethoven's
Ninth, only hers is played by angels,
Like perfect days, her perfect face,
I penned a sonnet to a girl, yet
Only whispered of it, and at each
Breath my sonnet vanished, dissolved
In bitterness, now I languish in my
Bed, another image has replaced
The first, an images of a kiss,
A kiss upon the lips, but her
Partner was not me, now I dance upon
A knife point and find it cuts me
Every time, I wrote a sonnet to that
Girl, now I am alone with this, my
Sadness and disbelief.

Dock

Dust

Dark Wood

Dark Water

This wood burns a dark

Incense. Pale moss drips

In elbow-scarves, beards

From the archaic

Bones of the great trees.

Blue mists move over

A lake thick with fish.

Snails scroll the border

Of the glazed water

With coils of ram's-horn.

Out in the open

Down there the late year

Hammers her rare and

Various metals.

Old pewter roots twist

Up from the jet-backed

Mirror of water

And while the air's clear

Hourglass sifts a

Drift of goldpieces

Bright waterlights are

Sliding their quoits one

After the other

Down boles of the fir.

Sadness

Drops

Универзум
хИпеРтекСт
хоризонт-очекување
ИГРА
слики
Трансфигурација
ИЛУЗИЈА
спектакл
прОстОр
ВРЕМЕ
Гледач
гест
шУм
текст-ткаење
ГЛАС
мрежа
Виртуелно
перформанС
трансНационално
постисториско
Огледала
АЛИЕНАЦИЈА
Машина за Желби
ситуација
Симулација
идентификација
комуникАција
ТЕЛО
детериторијализација
Стварност
неизговорено

The Bourgeois Life III

Rest

...And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!

Death in the Sickroom