Alek Lindus



Gare Du Nord

A in sous-vÍtements

vaulted ceilings


Pigeons decapitating


mes
doigts

A train





Catalan Atlas

They had fought hard

to preserve                the irrefutable
diagnosis

from language still
so thin it was folded in








spherical transparency.








when time dilates
(after Ionesco)

Bear this child
scrub its face,

absurdly full
of knots.


No knots in water,

a bewildering situation
wrapped in little people,

at the table next to mine
i live like a dead man.






e-mail the poet at allouis@hol.gr
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