Bark Kora
Landscapes
In the Ashtray
A tiny sun
With yellow tobacco hair
Is burning out in the ashtray
The blood of cheap lipstick suckles
The dead stumps of stubs
Beheaded sticks yearn
For sulphur crowns
Blue roans of ash whinny
Arrested in their prancing
A huge hand
With a burning eye in its palm
Lurks on the horizon
In a Sigh
On roads from the depths of the soul
On blue-back roads
Weed travels
The roads disappear
Beneath its steps
The pregnant crops
Are raped by swarms of nails
The furrows have vanished
From the field
Invisible lips
Have wiped out the field
Space is overjoyed
Staring
At its smooth hands
Smooth and grey
On the table
The tablecloth stretches
Into infinity
The ghostly
Shadow of a toothpick follows
The bloody trail of the glasses
The sun clothes the bones
In new golden flesh
Freckled
Satiety scales
The breakneck crumbs
Buds of drowsiness
Have burst through the white bark
In a Groan
The flame spurted high
From the abyss in the flesh
Beneath the earth
An impotent fluttering of wings
And a blind scrabbling of paws
On the earth nothing
Beneath the clouds
The weak lamp of gills
And the wordless screams of algae
On the Hatstand
The collars have bitten through
The necks of hanged emptiness
Second thoughts hatch out
In the warm hats
Fingers of twilight peep
From the widowed sleeves
Green terror sprouts
In the tame pleats