Old nigger ink you gotta be under the nails and by the pages of the book

old nigger ink the keys are stained the papers torn and fallen and dropped

so we found ourselves on the first day of autumn

standing against the wind with an agile night over

so we found ourselves on the first day of fall

sitting opposite the walls with a fragile light over

old nigger ink you gotta be left uncleaned I will tell the lady when she pops

old nigger ink this lid was never meant to be painted and covered now it makes no sound at all

Stiff neck means

eyes set for hours

enjoy the short lived velvet

of Queyrat

immobile, frozen

admitted gone

caress the tender surface

over the exiting minutes

warm in cotton clothes

under a midday sun

wasted legs apart hands off

the pavement around

I make and all I do is

bile.

Darlin' I can't get up today. I can't find a way out of this worried mind. Frozen man is, long dull pain. Stolen refrains. Mostly black, a little bit green. Sometimes what remains is not good enough to care. Hard luck dames, mystery trains. All is, but don't seem, or get close.

Βρείτε, σας παρακαλώ, κάτι ευγενές

στις επιδρομές του αγγειόσπασμου

στο φούσκωμα του μελισσιού

χλωμιάρα αιμοσιδηρίνη

στρίβεται γύρω απ'τη σκόνη

χάλκινα καλώδια παλαιάς κοπής

βγαίνουν σε κάθε εκπνοή

απ'τη μύτη και απ'το στόμα

η θεραπευτική του πόνου;

τα λεκιασμένα σέβη μου

η πνευμονική σας καρδία

ασθμαίνει συμφορητική

άλατα

γύρω απ'την κεραμική εστία

γλιστρώ τη ραχιαία επιφάνεια του χεριού μου

για να επιστρέψει στη θάλασσα

ως ανήκει ως 0.9%

...

Απ'έξω έρχεται υγρασία και θαλασσίλα

μέσα βράζουν τα τραπέζια.

Με τα μάτια κολλημένα στους προσοφθάλμιους

του μικροσκοπίου βλέπω το χρωματικό φάσμα, τις βλεφαρίδες μου και μικρές φυσαλίδες του στρώματος δακρύων να διασχίζουν το πεδίο.

-Η αφαίρεση του δότη

μια λιποθυμία μόλις του τραβήξαν τη βελόνα

οι εφημερεύοντες γαύγιζαν να σώσουμε τα περιστατικά

οι σταγόνες στα τζάμια που βλέπαν στο φωταγωγό θρυμματίζονταν απ'το υπέρηχο

ο τρόμος του ειδικού

ασφαλής μέσα στο καλλιγραφικό του ολοκλήρωμα.

πίσω η πλάτη μου ζεσταίνεται από ένα σφυρί που παίζει

-Ορθοπνοεί τις τελευταίες τρεις ημέρες

όλη η αριστερή μεριά έχει διασταλεί απ'το λεμφοίδημα.

κάποιος πιστός προσεύχεται και το πουκάμισο στεγνώνει τα υγρά της παροχέτευσης

κάποιος άλλος τρώει στο λόμπυ

και αυτός περιμένει πίσω απ'τους προσοφθάλμιους

-Να του ξαναπάρω αίμα.

Days are short.

The anatomies malfunction. 

Shifts never end and when they do they start over. 

Overcast means high temperatures. 

Only now it's clear. Under a family of blankets still cold.

Why a hole on the chest drains serum and spirit

for each and every simpleton that took a look I might as well add

a point of loss.

A trembling shaky surgeon who skips a breath every a couple

skin cold soft and sweaty

hairs light-colored everywhere and eyes out of focus

he wears a silver bracelet with the planets hanging from his wrist where I first saw the signs of an atrophic ulnar nerve and an indiscreet hypomanic state. Velvet over the weeping sutures and freezing encouragments against the steri-strips this wound is spitting. On the tip of my tongue the answers hovered, then they slid back in. The back of my head buzzed and bungled and fell around down and over with six legs convulsing; a wide obstacle blocked my view and I remained staring at the white light, taking a listen to the gauze as it was pinched out. Severed dignity heals with an untouchable pride and delicacy, words are uttered in velvet words are uttered in a sophisticated recognizable manner

neanderthals tend to be amused

we said we said

nothing not a word in expensive textile

if I could love you I would love without rehearsals

if I could love you I would love without rehearsals

A trembling shaky surgeon a shadow of herself old timer lady a rotten female mammalian a child with broken arm a stoic motorcyclist with his steps in negative pressure, under vacuum assisted closure and his foot he forgot to wash the floor on the wound the wound on the sheets the sheets on the bed the hands on the patients the hands on the bloated stomach the bloated magnets over the cancerous brain that restarts along with every tick of a badly measured metronome this forehead burns this forehead bleeds nothing to be afraid of the face poses with bleeding.

This snakedancer is a monsterfright

and in other languages the disoriented miniature ridicules are equally static

so once covered, coveted

before the retinas

the enthusiasm melts

if I could feel the ulnar nerve under the moving skin

if I could feel the ulnar nerve under the moving skin I would heal without rehearsals

and no remorse.