COMPANY MEN OF POETRY
the editor
inserted
a waterfall
in June
this year
where a sun
should have
been
we go inside
twice now:
first under
a roof,
and then
under the hood
of the heart
to ferment
I have become
drunk
inside myself,
my cheeks
freely
ask
the editor:
for so long
every thing
has been
so heavy
and green,
the water
so clear,
where does
it all
come from
