Backyard or the Axiom on Pain

Someone’s grilling fish.
the air sprinkled with roasted bay leaves is
sneaking into sails. no one has any intention of
sailing. in beds of parachute silk
the flesh waits for someone to flick his tongue. the one
grilling the fish must be
Toni. the deck is bursting with snails. sadness cannot stand
the shells breaking. so we cook only slugs.
sometimes we scratch
the surface with our fingernails and then until late in the night
we pick out splinters. the fortress of pain is a horse.
the purgatory of yearning is in rattlesnakes
and I don’t give a damn about
maniere. life is a dream.
ping-pong is art. if you really
want it.

Dvorište ili aksiom o boli

Dvorište ili aksiom o boli

Netko priprema gradele.
zrak posut pečenim lovorom
uvlači se u jedra. nitko ne namjerava
ploviti. u krevetima od padobranske svile
meso čeka da netko palucne jezikom. bit će da je
onaj tko priprema gradele
Toni. na palubi bujaju puževi. tuga ne može podnijeti
kućice koje se lome. zato kuhamo samo golaće.
eventualno zagrebemo
površinu noktima i onda do dugo u noć
vadimo iverje. tvrđava boli je konj.
čistilište čežnje je u čegrtušama
i baš me briga za
maniere. život je san.
ping-pong je umjetnost. ako baš
hoćete.