BLACK URN


Waiting with strong smiles
Attached to lips
And teeth

Because
Poetry is everything
Everything is poetry

Vehicular clusters
Are broken coffins

Shivering sunglasses
On obese faces

I write fast
Without being able to read
What I put down
On the dirt road

It doesn’t matter
If you don’t know
How to read
But it’s important
To know how to see

The black cistern
Is in the mousetrap
It is just like mine
The one stolen

It is better
Than a Trojan Horse
It’s a can of cactuses
Canister of ambushes