Mayakovsky



What About You?

I splintered the landscape of midday
by splashing colours from a tumbler.
I charted on a tray of aspic
the slanting cheekbones of Atlantis.
Upon the scales of an iron turbot,
I found ladies' lips, aloof.
And you, could you have played a nocturne
using a drainpipe for a flute?


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Transtromer

  Calling Home   Our phone call spilled out into the dark and glittered between the...