Saturday, 3 December 2011


They lived near a meadow and kissed their fingers
The sky grew as bright as blindness I’ll
Love you and the trees were nude as dreamlessness I’ll love and
And asleep they ran through a street of feather and ladybirds
It’s like this and /
Or never & the sky darkened into their tongues &&&&&&&&
And they lived near a meadow and bit their thumbs
The snow fell on animals made out of ink
I’ll love you always as they’ll sleep by day nor
And run through a street made of other streets &&
But to shy away from battle when the battle
Is forced by the objective situation is
To lead inevitably to the most fatal and
Demoralizing of all possible defeats Trotsky
And the sky becoming lovelier the moon nor the stars
And the animals made out of realisms
& the blushing snow and. & oblivion

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