1. |
Barbarian Nostalgia
12:18
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Those red stains are back
Crumpled rags all over the flat
Soaked sorrow from the sky
As grey as ever
Returning for a beer
They used to heat up the place
Head of Kafka the boilerman
And Janouch the informer
Hordes before you
Small dandelion parachutes
A nation of gaffers
You've just woken up
It's all wrong, black stones
Shove around you
Clay up to your chest
A butterfly flies away with your glasses
A friend with a wet lap
Has returned through a dark passage
Crying or missing the spot
Calling the loved one
His eyes overgrown with beard
His elbow grown into a beggar
As poor as a castle lord
Standing on the rampart before the fall
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2. |
The Flute in the Sink
10:38
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Under the cliff
Under the massif
A weak spring
Of clear water
Rains pommel
Grief grows stronger
Raven waved his wing
Crack thunder drum
Hair grey
Uprooted
Burnt
Light clubbed with a shovel
Blacks in abbey ruins
Sing about sun
They lie about stars
About tone length
They lie about duration
of sorrow, of colours
They lie about posture
They lie about blissful dark
Sweetly they kneel, like boys
At a communion service
A cockerel in the spring
With his head cut off
The flute in the sink
Lets out old songs
Long insolent tones
Amid hair stretched in filth
Washed by a Viking
Spanked with a birch whisk
In a landscape devoid of trees
Full of cars and smokestacks
And money only
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3. |
...Which Is Lacking
12:39
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Friends scattered across the homeland
Look sadly and alone
At the events around them
Faint Sun is gone
One ring after another falls
Upon fingers under shoulders
Of the weak and hunched men
With fat bellies atop insect feet
But with a woman by their side
That's what's it all about
What's not to like
Amid the stream of life
Flame flickers out, its shadow too
Hot embers are damped down and down
By urine, tears and memories
Virtual sharing of virtues and vices
And of something which is lacking
Of going wolfish in spring bloom
In the month of love
In the month of enchainment
Moonlit jasmine tree
Shines bright after the rain
Like pearls of something which is lacking
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4. |
Night Bathing
05:35
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Organ's stumps, pipe's severed head
Between the vents a tent soaked wet
Coniferous guitars give pace
To the wind's breath of ancient shapes
Hunched and slumped, it howls and bellows
Shadow's echoes, echo's shadows
Forest of the wordless night
A hundred owls in flood-like flight
Midnights feet smell soft and sweet
Of blueberries and all things free
While father holds an empty bowl
Under the sour cherry tree
He promised autumn will be here to meet
But autumn failed, as winter did
Spring teased us with a straight-faced lie
And summer fled by way of sky
Naked voices take a bath
In shallow stream beneath the path
Through cell they into waters fell
With fading sounds of olden bell
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5. |
Mother’s Wordfall
09:35
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Epic standing crucifixion
Invasive torso on railway tracks
Rides gesticulating
Wildly through the room
While you sit and look up if you can
In the garden devoid of words
In the garden it hangs out black laundry
In the garden it rhymes
In the garden with father and cats
When you listen and do not hear
When you're given gifts and never give
When you're addressed and don't react
Saturated with inner music
You hear but do not listen
Movable torso of crucifixion
Enters the silent room
This living monstrous sacrifice
Flames in eyes, glasses over flames
Beastly loyal totality
Majestic mother of monologues
Accusations float in the wind
In the corner of the mouth with a spit
Of laziness and life in pubs and bed sheets
Indescribable circumstances
Happiness, cellar and attic
Then a whole house, later castle and grounds
And vassals
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