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a pile of past traces entering the present
first i reach the glass with my eyes
only then with my left hand.
it’s morning again and it’s happy
in a slightly melancholic way.
black leaves of a red flower
on a barred window
grow to mid-thigh.
little blue symbols are scattered
completely randomly and very closely
on soft white fabric.
like watching a blossoming meadow from a distance.
there are marches and horsemen
with covered faces, then a stony dock
and a door, leading to nothing.
a large body from cool jade.
a herd of violet light is grazing on it.
sometimes a word too many, sometimes too few,
sometimes redundant and even so bothersome
that there’s no need for it.
need is an incredibly greedy and wild animal
which attacks from different levels with outstanding
determination.
sometimes it’s made up
and drawn out like some boring novel