fierce

arrow head

dug up

recovered

re wound

like a bird I am wounded by the sky I will never pass through

the cathedral bells I will never hear ring

the country I will never visit

in my lifetime

like this black paint on my jacket

I decide

to stay

cubism

was first nothing more than realism

in someone’s mind

was nothing more than relationship

between border and brother and boredom

matters of the hear]t

I try to keep things simple

with you

I try to use as few words as possible

because I start to ramble

I know I know myself

it does not stop flowing

until the sky is red

and there’s anger in my eyes