blogul lui Virgil CoastaMare

between the lips of an egg life
and between the eyes still closed algae crying,
only kid knows this terrible rain
with birds passing through the facial bones,
only kid knows that bitter snow
each palm open, broken shoulders,
every breath of the heart.

Port still smoke fingers, knife and flower,
arms sweet skin corpse night
head of the silk stocking,
bath filled with veils of leaves
where his hands hanging the sea.

I nice suit, summer nights,
port transparent skin of the shoulders,
smile out over a liquid mask
Hair also leaning against a rock
walk your body scattered knees gap
and the steps are still losing the shadows steps.
Port now in hand a burning lamp,
a boat and a little chicken eyes,
up on bread dipped in your blood
slowly say the name of fire
say the name so slow death
as snake skin tear wet with tears
so slowly as they made only form in the mouth and losing hands
hold in one hand as fire name
and in the other hand form the name of death,
up on bread dipped in your blood
watch burn each of these strange objects.

You must appear at this meeting
uncertain rain hidden hair,
in front of your eyes go blank filled with water birds
the size of athletes,
between you and other rivers crossing bridges over water rivers of water,
the edge of their landscape melts slowly
last stone and wood.

Tougher than the drop that falls on the torture of prisoners skinned skull,
May dry bleached by the sun than the orbit cavity,
May empty beyond meat loving plants,
the legs softer sleep
you let your hips rise of a wave of white, the filaments
sparkling
I let my grow room off, twenty-one sordid nails.

And yet between us is a veil pierced,
is a superb pool
increased from what falls new steam butterflies
we continued to climb on us in an incestuous,
asphyxiating,
open eyes that beat two eye sclera
and shaking hands a lighted field rots.

Between us is a veil flammable
made our flesh dusty dreams,
it covers lakes and mountains and a forest made of birds,
he enters, extended with a fine lace, the mouth of wild animals
He dip a hand in the whole forest sex,
stranger with a smile and a knife between the shoulder permanently
and skin which covers nothing but distance
Where eyes no longer see
and hand carried to the eye
rise and fly-in silence.

I sometimes step on these lands
after falling on my shoulder cape made of bone,
in objects, bodies floating on a river closed
in the air boat is swaying, staggering,
between hands, between fingers,
the snow rolls flowing glass of lenses melted
the eye to bottom, the alley after them clouds and rain,
White rain, rain hands breaking a window
I sometimes step on these lands
whiter than themselves, only their ashes than thirst
whiter than thirst than the flood,
whiter than the head that appears in shadow or cousin in sweat.

With a cape bones, bottles, a cloak of stagnant water,
a large alley, torn seats, springs,
I go or wait through these lands.

So often hidden,
once the eyelids,
plasters apartele once hung from them,
once the role of spiders and insects swarming in these devices
and once my pity, wearing an executioner, the corpse,
between you and trembling hands outstretched
animals fall to the ground filled with rags,
whole animals and large herds falling from large heights
Crush between you and my hands outstretched.

Beautiful smile burned
and so quiet the arms, the shoulders, the breasts,
so quiet sleep with a smile,
slowly wavering
on thin strain your belly grows.

I have to go through these animals
armed to the teeth with knives, with scissors
and some huge magnifying glass,
I must go,
you are white so far,
I am quiet in their midst, seized by a foam shy.

Absent and drowned in lace,
in the middle of the room brought the plain
for your visit,
chair of wax,
Coat racks,
carpet hair
and a lamp
drowning-in lace,
beautiful woman a woman,
the flame of a woman
fingers of climbing plants cut from roots
I enter the eye as the two castles empty
fear of the ghosts fleeing fire
Your eyes stop the panic heart
My heart of the closer as a bird
slowly dying bird in your hands,
keep lips with a glass untouched,
glass in my mouth quiet flows the feet,
in sleep or in death over our lips touching objects.

The huge wave mesh on plain
show me how gracefully
bare legs remained a few steps behind
and a steaming cup of breast milk.

But these castles are empty, you know,
Dark Room is a single woman glass
and the great hall of my beloved hair caught in knives.
I myself am here, in a room completely flooded
and mirrored walls,
I move more slowly than fish from her sadness
cheek empty empty mirrors do not know
a burning cheek bones gnawed over by the wind
and one that is silent with skin stretched over it as a simple mirror
In your eyes open long edge over their
comb handle with soft yellow hibernating animals
and your neck liquid flowing dress.

Now smell the horse split, the morgue room,
for many, many times forbidden, hidden,
between my legs when I go
your skin stretches, tighten with steps
between lips have your head turned into a puddle of hair
while the arms
so white and clear,
keep your body as a teaspoon.

Put down the object, the minimum body
and shake hair flaky or candle
in a mirror hanging in tree-
cut on one cheek bone
a bit outdated due
and one which is a wooden box
perfumed silk.

Put down the primitive objects
I remember well the name of a knife
name a bottle of lamp
Long back of that child
head and belly
I remember well hidden in the pillow eyelid
upper lip
fish barefoot on hot candy
too soft, I remember
too hot, too soft,
and so sweet, too sweet throat
compared with the taste of the ax.

I remember, number, nearly 22 items
put down next to you,
Funeral objects with black feathers
poles and glasses,
Leather walls, the glass room,
cigarette, trembling fingers, knife
what can I do with my love
as long sail, arms, eyelids,
common objects of love and crime,
Place
down
along with hands
glass lamp, cannula, fish bone
handkerchief, knife and 30 lei
and yet between us is wearing a feather executioner
a corpse as a small doll - without any explanation,
I decided to take off my clothes,
pale woman with slow
with that stunning glow of a knife
not kiss, do not kill
my clothes and sleep with the corpse Dolls.

Thinner as the air loss, the loss of shade,
May wet blanket broken only dog ​​in the middle market
surrounded by ravines mobile
with veil floating lost in your hair between your fingers,
with a single tear on his cheek sucking,
the hands of silver,
hair and face mask woven into one shapeless,
neck with white towel
and open-necked,
sad like a cloud, like a snowflake,
as a piece of wool,
always hand on my shoulder
so diffuse
that blanket torn by dogs in the middle market
thinner than my heart
ravines and trees around me soft
stretch between her hot gum, paste Filante
trees that grow in the abyss yawned on growing trees and so on
pneumatic paste prohibited guarded by lightning
warmer clouds and snow that snow on your lips,
around me
debris left after a long storm
where, with eyes closed and covered with both hands,
different white glass shards left over from you.

So,
I just shut up and move
rather slowly,
bit far from all
between a tree and a plain broken into small pieces
as lips and eyes spilled cup
hands together for all
while the back wall is always riddled
so close.