swooned by candles
Other than me,
I am sure one of them is telling the truth
The candles echo the seams of my shit
And the smoke, viciously talks about
New life into my language
Darkness everywhere. Just mosquitoes
And the darkness and the spoken typhoon
Looping hither and thither
Tonight. The night of restored noises
Coming from the jalousies, from the dogs
Restoring the joys of life upon my so-called
Two mesmerizing genitals and
Their magnified enemy – the black night,
The extension of cadaverous thoughts
Boxed here and there
Signing out, the candle flicking its last,
The mermaid smoke reaching the whiteness of the ceiling
Engulfing the universe
And its lies. The children of the rain
Of garlic and onions frying,
Of Mondays authenticating the real JOY.
About this entry
You’re currently reading “swooned by candles,” an entry on CONFESSIONINGS by JON VERZOSA
- Published:
- December 30, 2009 / 7:44 pm
- Category:
- Poetry Book 2: THE BLACK PROJECT
- Tags:
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