Trafika Europe 9/10 - UK in Europe

seven poems

Declaration of Intentions For those who insist on diluting this that I write this that I live so be it, although I allude here to a finesse that I avert with rigor. I set fire to language, what I invoke calls you and calls beyond you, but verses are a discipline that macerates the body and exasperates all I touch. Making poetry is an arid cilice, even if it enflames the blood, only pus is extracted, writing can’t even sway a solid, or float one. So about the poem, the artifice, the opaque sediment, extreme light to me.

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