OUTBREAK and the wake 

(Aka, “Greetings from the cabin.”)

I, Isis, call the ripper. The black plastic sack

And that’s how I’ll help him by making a start:

Tightly hugged by a steely grey strip

exiled once more, a crankcase experiencing the stirring

was confined for ages in a breathing machine hooked into agony, 

shaved heads’ chaperon behind an unbreakable glass

bursting his raring hunger. 

Finally, one day, he won a seat as 

sacred patience, the holy martyr. He was sitting enclosed on the edge of a shale

and leaned on the fork to stare someone deep in the eyes

“The belt conductor” loses willpower

A battle cry, anger, burning dilated pupils in a keen howl, a smooth mirror 

Obscure voice in an essay marathon:

“All that and even more, 

I had to undress you, find the core of your virus once again, once again…

In sequence, the wreckage is applied to your throat.

But I’m losing today how I left you yesterday

 , the musicality of your burst, the howls of mercy.

I had the time of my life, but once more, today just shaft, clay

an opened dialogue with a smoking chimney in the distance,

so the basin had to be filled for the next customer. They spread rumors about me cause I create the atmosphere by holding the microphone in the charge trap.

I made  my disorder what the enemy dictates, me an apparatus of great hospitality,

my cheek before the shallow waters of the white sea 

listening to her words, naming the battle cry” skipper.”

“Skipper” under the soaked rug of the living room 

In freezing, moist cottages given over to papercutting from 18.00 till 20.00

leather old shoes surrendered in the dust next to the duct-taped entrance

Trembling legs that wobble under the sound of a siren

[Break the seal!] Then the second day of the harvest, mice roamed the area

The light in the house suddenly became stronger, and as the door just opened 

I said adios to the crew that stayed overnight.”