Romulus Cento
The mongering wolf leaves its trace
its tears, its rows of teeth.
Seeking your mouth for disavowals
for what can't be said
for those shrouds
anonymous pains in a strange house.
The whispered cries of chiming clocks
The small hours, the livid wound
the rising walls where night is in men's eyes
& wolf howls to the west of war
its tears, its rows of teeth.
Seeking your mouth for disavowals
for what can't be said
for those shrouds
anonymous pains in a strange house.
The whispered cries of chiming clocks
The small hours, the livid wound
the rising walls where night is in men's eyes
& wolf howls to the west of war
Time, relentlessly allotted
like a blind machine
Relentless the pages turn, relentless
age approaches.
Only words still stand: story's crystal bone
I dream you into being
Let today froth from your mouth.
like a blind machine
Relentless the pages turn, relentless
age approaches.
Only words still stand: story's crystal bone
I dream you into being
Let today froth from your mouth.
More and more I see the human form is dark meat
which longs to be the sea
Open my ears & let your frenzy enter
quick, intense, like a woman's confession
whose sweat reminds us
it will be as it is in life.
To die means leaving
wide-mouthed red flowers & bee hives
& the cinema of sleep
To die means leaving
its quarrels & its motion & what is empty
& all things unsolved
To die means leaving
my life, this shirt I want to take off -
your shadow
which longs to be the sea
Open my ears & let your frenzy enter
quick, intense, like a woman's confession
whose sweat reminds us
it will be as it is in life.
To die means leaving
wide-mouthed red flowers & bee hives
& the cinema of sleep
To die means leaving
its quarrels & its motion & what is empty
& all things unsolved
To die means leaving
my life, this shirt I want to take off -
your shadow