So Spaccamela
heart and eat it, and
stracciami meat,
ingoiane the shreds, burr
drop of blood
the sides of the mouth,
Tear the soul bites,
sink those claws,
flesh of my lilies,
between the edge of the hopes and desires
Yesterday,
between bites of greasy today
absurd and a place tomorrow,
and dust of clay in his hands. We still
form and I'll still
footprint, and I look
, derision, crying, and you
torment, disappointment and enchantment. So look at me and
squartami,
unworthy and indifferent,
accidental juggler Love, Narcissus rejected
useless, arid
eternal present,
fell weightless
on blades of futile clamor.
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