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lyric poem

toate şi în toate fără a-mi
A albastru-negru nubian jumulire portocale
înviat din morţi
mirosul a crescut atât de fals, de spini atât de adevărat
în termen de mâna mea i ţineţi
ploaie a fost de peste, de aer şi de genial
Sunt cântând la tine
poate că nu contează este că ai murit
şedere nu mai mult
fii atent la stele, dragostea mea
ea izbucni cumplit de vin
copilul care a aruncat departe de frunze după frunze


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