Broken Bread
The peaceful city unveils itself
filthy fog mixes
noisy crows
within the temples of the alcohol men with burnt eyes
in unseen catacombs new myths
the ivy spreads on secret guarded walls
words gush out from chopped heads
blind hands such as frozen dumb chicks
fall asleep after a few movements in the air
on the book full of holes fear
trembles
through canals among deformed carcasses
trees sing
last beam of light washes out
boiling waves in reflux seek
the equilibrium
four billions of shadows:
tiny craters
skillful light
on the illuminated wall
such as a humongous centipede
a pigeon’s egg
contemporary history

stretches out
on the negotiation table
cockroaches storm in
flock of birds feather together
on Thrasyllus’s bald head
this looks like a bad omen
as if an owl’s feather had been found
in the broken lunch bread