1.
the poets read
mazes
long white beards
mind
sore-hungry-I will run in their
eaten fear
digest
long as there are landscapes
... trains that run all the way home.
Oh, mother
feed me with apple pulp
late night crowds are child
soul-prayer, on colorful sheets
am writing to you.
2. Like him I did not
wood - no leaves photo-frame
youth travel desire regret
bedside. No Latvian
from which to view the frame, only letters unrelated
:
dl hi UDH
bh tg gs dr iu cv
dsaxxwoplldd
xermoo
No trip
no good account of myself on a little bed under a table
eee yyucdrnmm
straaaxr pp ogty
xaq kk ff sruiogcc
Letters
under a table on a bed of maladjustment
But I'm still young
(unfortunately)
3.
leaving, you took away my shoes.
I turned my eyes in your coffee, drank
- oh that morning in melancholy stillness! -
fade claims;
alive universe full of pot holders
not burn your hands with the pot of my stellar Milky
want
Via ...
not go back without filling up the jar of dreams
with sugary madness!
4.
And if God was your bartender of confidence?
Hey mister,
yes, the coffee I drink it cold, even in winter, but I pray nothing
only cold showers and warm horizons opaque puddles.
Hey mister,
yes, let's company, and not hide
as positive spell while preparing orange juice
distracted the young university.
As they turn the leftovers on the bottom!
Your sun has never broken down so much ...
Not mine, because I do not have
And do not turn red when you realize that you
hard from behind my newspaper a few days old
sitting here in the corner. Do not hide while
looked out the window, I'm also looking
us, you know, not because they expect something.
Really, now wait for my coffee
ladies and expect you to just reach my fingers
while I throw the cup.
5.
First, despair abstract
- tap into the mystery of misunderstanding-
poetry.
Now
true despair - not being able to touch-
elegy. But the same
keep walking until golden sink in the swamp.
6.
"Oh how I come out of this network errors and anxiety among others
waiting for my silence until I finish my work
that never began and never ends "- Kerouac
" You come back to me? "
churches, and his voice fell
- slow as yawning on my summer-
red dawn sleepless eyes, and sighs
fishing parentheses
-mixing-
including the matter of disillusionment.
"And it is as empty all the time ... huh?"
7.
"However I am continuing my restless search mental "- Kerouac
up here comes the smell of earth-
wet rustle of a universal language, but it is not
Paradise
inside the walls.
Non d'Angelo,
footprint
weeping nose against the glass.
8.
"I stop for the size of my heart,
was then that I decided:" Do not come back "- Kerouac
The moon in the rearview mirror
Driving tired in the night the moon followed me
only between
woods - not the love-
poplars asleep after the rain.
10.
"Darkness is my god, one hundred
tangle of roots that sucking mute" - Rilke
Also, leaving a station,
- a reflection of his fist on the glass
shiny tin
crossing desolate village
ripe wheat
yawning tree in the middle of the field
taciturn as the "Old Thinker" by Auguste Rodin-
think we take the only existing tracks
laugh-bushes that hide other ways. "
