Poems

Any Liquid Poured into a Jug…

Any liquid,
poured into a jug,
hurries to take the jug’s shape [=form],
and [any] word
entering the depths of the [human] soul,
informs it
of its own form.
Night deforms darkness
through its images,
mighty stallions
are contained in horses…
Always,
everywhere –
[it’s possible for] throats to exceed 
the limits of terrifying harmonies.
So, entering the world,
we change the world,
it is an envelope,
we are its foundation,
my world,
ruffling, wincing,
like ether,
takes the shape of the WORD.
The smoke sparkles –
the last volume has been burnt out...
Yet
the symbol is eternal over the light ashes
of the letters,
over felts,
over stone stoves
crooked [is] by blueprints of thoughts
SOUND.

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