Károly Pallai


113 grams of a slightly red condition


absence lost daffodil lost cervix

my etching privation trying to make sense
saying not to tear apart the wheel-stimulated letters
selecting moments of
anemonaic inertia

the fingers of the days just showed
publishing hills
splayed milk ages
hopes candied on naked
ballet muses
payed by plastic nirvanas
of burning back pockets

decades ago
the local livid mammals
quit the laconic
lightlessness,
the dominant asymmetries
and competent remnants of
lusting fields

we all aknowledged
the visceral dreams of the Makers

Submitted: Monday, June 14, 2010
Edited: Monday, June 14, 2010

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