At the bottom
of a bottle
of mezcal
–like at the end–
waiting for us
is the worm.
I chew
in dry earth
that whiteness
of living hedgerows
to know
the taste
of what will eat me.
translated by Katherine M. Hedeen
At the bottom
of a bottle
of mezcal
–like at the end–
waiting for us
is the worm.
I chew
in dry earth
that whiteness
of living hedgerows
to know
the taste
of what will eat me.
translated by Katherine M. Hedeen
Se non combatti per costruire la tua vita non ti rimarrà niente
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Long time no read, so always a intertaining fruitful read about poetry.
Thanks.
Glad you like it.
but count me out all the same…
Understood.
Poignant.
Glad you think so.