Trafika Europe 2 - Polish Nocturne
I leave stones of ripples my mouth spits out oaks, kora , ancient rituals, milk from St Mary’s breast, a crest of a hoopoe, A tulip tree, yellow birch, eye-salmon rose fiddlehead ferns, ruffed grouse, a flock of enunciations ingrate spoiled insulated
Now, a shower after shower a gestu after gestu shindig after shindig Mouth taps iron ghosts bark means kora keeps burning till it brains forth
Between country and country, crocuses grow. Do not regret a crocus when woods are on fire. The storks align themselves with the lighthouses.
Hummingbirds calculate rates of return. Between us a memorare of raw sea-weed
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