Gravity

I know a man
who never saw villa borgese.

when the summer rolls around
beggars rub silver gel
into their hair.  

every day I visit my doctor.
on a small scale, softly rubbing my thumb against
my forefinger
I’m crumbling the dust from that journey
into her baby palms.
so every day she sinks
one tiny step lower.
the doctor says:
see how the streets grow longer and longer each day?
isn’t that like orthography? like economy? like swans?  
a lonely myoma in the convertible
of its own light?

how come no one bribes the linen of your sheets while you sleep?
paul celan cannot walk the rope
forever dead.
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coo! coo! a laurie, was laurie ist?
big science? golden cities? golden towns!

Gravitacija

Gravitacija

poznajem čovjeka
koji nikad nije vidio vilu borgese.

kada dođe ljeto
prosjaci si u kosu
utrljaju srebrni gel.

svakoga dana odlazim k liječniku.
na malu vagu, meko tarući palac o
kažiprst
mrvim u njene dječje dlanove
prašinu s tog putovanja.
ona tako, svakog dana
potone za jedan sasvim mali korak.
liječnik kaže
vidiš, svakoga dana ulice bivaju sve dulje.
zar to nije pravopis? ekonomija? labudovi?
usamljeni mion u kabrioletu
svoje vlastite svjetlosti?

zar, kada spavaš, nitko ne potkupljuje lan?
paul celan ne može vječno mrtav
hodati po konopcu.
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coo! coo! a laurie, was laurie ist?
big science? golden cities? golden towns!