A strange womandances in dreamssnug in bedfar to the northin a kingdomof ice and desire.She is wrappedin red…
When you are old,the cold taunts youlike a frigid lover.
“Poetry Makes Nothing Happen…”
At the end of the barstands a manintent on going nowherebut oblivion,somewhere betweennow and tomorrowand betwixt…
Omnis in hic sum…
The waiter turns the cup around,
a habit, bred from suspicion