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Vagrant's notes


Three poems from Lösdrivaren  #1 (2000)

translated by Mattias Forshage






The green shoulder
Having made death itself scream
Is cut short with a sign
Looks down at its chair
The hands are taking the life of
A ball-played head of ice
All around the disaster







Appetite for breath
Snake tongue
Breaths along the body
Either ever seen them
not there right there
no warmth in that very body at the time
no ward in that very smoke
The doubt of iron
of sorrow and adrenalin
or menstruation blood
Old image
old cleft features
old deeply cleft features







You warm wind,
throwing evil threads
in my unrest hung loose.
The silence that circumvents the whispers of lullabies
in our silent costumes.
Prevent the eye take the wet faces,
hiding the fragrance in the moisture of my mouth.
The child's eye eats itself into each nile of skin.









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