True love. Is it normal
is it serious, is it practical?
What does the world get from two people
who exist in a world of their own?
...
Nothing has changed.
The body is susceptible to pain,
it must eat and breathe air and sleep,
it has thin skin and blood right underneath,
...
I prefer movies.
I prefer cats.
I prefer the oaks along the Warta.
I prefer Dickens to Dostoyevsky.
...
So much world all at once – how it rustles and bustles!
Moraines and morays and morasses and mussels,
The flame, the flamingo, the flounder, the feather –
How to line them all up, how to put them together?
...
Darwin.
They say he read novels to relax,
But only certain kinds:
nothing that ended unhappily.
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It can't take a joke,
find a star, make a bridge.
It knows nothing about weaving, mining, farming,
building ships, or baking cakes.
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To be a boxer, or not to be there
at all. O Muse, where are our teeming crowds?
Twelve people in the room, eight seats to spare
it's time to start this cultural affair.
...
It could have happened.
It had to happen.
It happened earlier. Later.
Nearer. Farther off.
...
Against a grayisch sky
a grayer cloud
rimmed black by the sun.
On the left, that is, the right,
...
I’m a tranquilizer.
I’m effective at home.
I work in the office.
I can take exams
...