p.d.s. 38 – ianuarie cu farfurii zburatoare
Mai sunt vreo 10 minute din ianuarie (luna cea mai nesuferita, un fel de zi de luni a anului), asa ca repede de tot p.d.s.-ul din Seidel. Stiu ca-i luni, dar n-ar strica sa ne prefacem un pic ca e sambata. Macar pana trece ianuarie.
I have a dream
And must be fed.
The manta rays when you wade out
Ripple toward your outstretched hand.
The answer is
The friendliness of the body.
There is no answer, but the answer is
The friendliness of the body
In the stars above
The dock at night.
And in the afternoon lagoon flags lazily flap
Their bodies toward yours
To be fed. I landed on
An atoll in the soft
The airport air was sweet. The blond January breeze was young.
The windchill factor
Which is Western thought
Received an IV drip of syrup clove.
I have a dream. I have a dream the
Background radiation is a
Warm ocean, and a pasture for
Desire, and a
Beach of royal psalms.
The IV bag is a warm ocean,
Is a body not your own feeding your body.
My body loves your body
Is the motto of Tahiti.
Two flying saucers mating,
One on top the other, flap and flow, in love.
Each is black
Gun soft as a glove.
(Iar eu revin luna viitoare cu povesti despre niste carti misto.)