Another poem for la Blog...

White/Transgression/Elongated

Would it glide so saliently and kill so elusively?

Would it make fluids boil so histrionically?

As voiceless as an resplendent constellation,

Ripping into a gargantuan cloud.

And spilling the redundant water onto us kids.

A place unto itself, a useless gimcrack.

An astronomical but tedious stretch.

No gusto, no passion.

No heart, no eyes.

Just a barbarian suffering in this world.

With vim, we’ll rush to gold, no rushing.

Avec vim, nous précipiter pour l'argent, se précipiter.

That’s silver.

Että te.

And hears one of my photographs....