Tomaž Šalamun Poems

Cats have set themselves on wings.
Buttons have buttercups. Hares are soft meat,
hares are soft meat, they quiver and throng.
...

Leather without history. Strength without
rickets. From a drawer. On the hand a wire. Blood
is silk. Walk silently. Blood is like
...

No one rides on
the crest. No one stops Rembrandt.
Trousers worn down on parmesan.
...

Precious copper mouth.
I hide, hide my head in you.
I have only one white sense.
...

Is it cold?
Are you snowed in?
The tent, does it still creak?
...

Yeah. It's only a matter
of environment if
I'm a genius.
...

Historical brutality,
you are a poppy.
With a black scepter, silk
wings.
...

The insane devotee throbs with his
small legs, I don't dare more.

The insane devotee throbs with his
small legs, I cannot do more. Bricks are
...

The rise of the zebra hurts the zebra.
As if she would breathe fire.
If  we put natural gold and the black blue into
the loaf of  bread it bursts.
...

I'm religious.
As religious as the wind or scissors.
It's an ant, she's religious, the flowers are red.
I don't want to die. I don't care if I die now.
...