Trafika Europe 14 - Italian Piazza

EXTRA PASSWORDS By Federico Federici (poems)

XXIX. it falls after many effortless words out at mute intervals, I heard it undisputedly drop, pour on, hiss like steam from some half-sealed valve on the heat pipe running through

the groovy interstices of walls, under-skin and further installed

how very kind of you to lick the jelly-word on a diet of consonants and vocals from the tight constriction of teeth all apparently matching scrawls and noise I sense all rejected things again, all hands, all fingers, all many inches deep hearts, white and black ones, scratches and holes, all the fourteen stations of the cross not less carried on bones than the further algebraic ones all my random strings of fever cut my lamentation, my whisper to no-one 101