TOMAŽ ŠALAMUNConcerning the Denouncement
Should the room be the flower, should
it be the lapis, build in your head into
the epidemic. Worms will retreat to
silk, they won’t eat the covered
face. Hey eel! Be ten eels together,
enjoy! The highway, divided by
stains with the skiers with birch tree
eyes. The inner parachute does
push-ups. Thirty-four, you say?
The cascade stopped. Where
will the water go? Who will eat
wounds? What will be in the
fridge? I’m your father and I’m studying
the case. My shovel flashes. 