στην Τίνα Παφίτη
I cannot tell what is the sky
And what is swimming
What is chalked heather burning
And what is music
What is the lying in state
And what is gutter barking
What is this shroud
And what is the crackling of vocal chords
I am in love with spider eyes
Ringed blind like monkeys
Petrol cascade on the road
Clapboard torches and this howling
Melted red pistols at the breast of the fallen mermaid
A highwayman of snow depths
Wrapped in a roaring cloak of coaldust
The black starfish
Stands arched and stretching
Walks on fingertips of hair
Up into the unfolded oil sheet
The white waters of steeled skies
We inhale fired cinders
We swallow our burnings
On iron-filed crab tracks
