Where are the weapons?
I have only those of my reason
and in my violence there is no place
for even the trace of an act that is not
intellectual. Is it laughable
if, suggested by my dream on this
gray morning, which the dead can see
and other dead too will see but for us
is just another morning,
I scream words of struggle?
Who knows what will become of me
at noon, but the old poet is "ab joy"
[..]
Subscribe to
Posts [Atom]