Aliq, 64 - 3 июля 2007 12:01

(haloes)

You’re puffing haloes
From every inhalation,
The rings of smoke
Like divine service-caps;

You put a nimbus on your nape
To be like a holy virgin,
Two smaller rings would be
Like earrings.
Pity, they melt so little by little.

You stand under the ring of smoke
Hugging yourself
Under the canopy of a nimbus;
Smoke without fire
On the wall background of
The extrasensory session.

Like a moth to your carpet
I flutter,
My pain with you
I heal up,

You stand under the ring of smoke
And your slant is streaming by
Like an in-off doublet shot
Getting lost somewhere
In smooth phrases
Of your stories.

by alquest questador

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