I look for the poetics,
I'm not sure what they are,
or where, still...
are they colours, places,
slanting pieces of shadow,
energy, other lives burning
up in front of me,
I feel the inner fire,
always burning out,
then at some point,
when I can't take it anymore,
returning me,
back to that place,
alright!
you need to get a big word
out - yeah...
or re-emerge,
well strap
me to a chair,
there's nothing more menacing,
than that the whole thing
may be beyond us,
and that existence is nothing
more than thermodynamics,
and so somebody as dumb,
has to make a break for words,
so word meaning, should I die of you?
never to know very much,
until I get beyond this idea,
that the nobody within is more
precious, than the somebody you
are pretending to be...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem