WG (03.07.1992 / Slovakia)

Floodraisers

dragged from grey waters
dragged from war's hungry mouth
there's a door on top of a birch tree

point me to the checquered carpets
on the roof of albino hearse
point me to the playhouse building
where we can watch
noir movies on a saxophone
point me to the fireworks in the mist
and bury me up in the cellar
under the highway or ocean floor
where fly riders turn
into floodraisers

by William Greco

Comments (0)

There is no comment submitted by members.