Bloodstains
on copper sheets
Sewed with blue
bandaged thread
Toned down with milk
Ninety-nine percent
of the world is empty
by the occurrence of it

Twenty-five people
are suffering and
the pendulum still smiles

The teacher knows
what makes its young men angry
He is afraid of the checklist

There is a high opening
in the suddenness of it all
It creeps from my sunrise window
And smells like fish and lily

Sometimes
the features of the beggar
make me doubt the evening sun

Sometimes
I think if everything
would be fine without water

And sometimes
if water would be fine
without everything

These men,
these men demand their rights
Shouting,
wanting to land
on the rings of Saturn

Light,
cosmos,
me, and water
are lighter than the
thinnest sheets of condoms
thrown from balconies of ravaged cities

We are doomed
to become the thief of the present
We are friends
of the tiffin boxes packed for tomorrow
We are neat

Nonexistent