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The
Primrose Blinda
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POETS
OF PF
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The
list of the Poets' Foundation
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IGOR
SERGEI KLINKI
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Precocious incidence Howled of flames You will see each corpse Dying of another death Living in english And speaking of Ireland The prisoner is the jail The slave is the master |
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last night a classmate told me in a very sweet voice 'you should write a poem in english' I just smiled at her and said 'why not? maybe one day. I can handle it' actually thinking that my english is worse than my poetry today at noon evening was coming very very fast I was spending my time and my last $5 bill into a noisy bar on Colón Ave. drinking some beer wishing the next bottle were colder and longer I thought of her thought about this fucking thing keeping in touch with my visions and that very moment I realised writing in english is no good for my poetry it needs a lot of 'o' ending words like joni mitchell's needs as I have read on a magazine on the other hand what could I write about? some people are killing some other people in rwanda far away from here most of them are relatives they are killing each other because of a piece of truth and I thought not so far from here just two or three seconds away from this nasty bar silence is killing many more people silence is killing too many more people |
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Father took me farther To listen to the silence And the bells. But when I turned my head We had been apart. Two crossed trees Know what I speak about. And the sudden fog. And the whole night. |
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He
who loves not his country can love nothing.
LORD BYRON |
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