In Her Sweetness Where She Folds My Wounds
In her sweetness where she folds my wounds
there is a flower that bees cannot afford.
It is too rich for them and would change
their wings into operas and all their honey
into the lonesome maps of a nonexistent
California county.
When she has finished folding all my wounds
she puts them away in a dresser where the
drawers smell like the ghost of a bicycle.
Afterwards I rage at her: demanding that her
affections always be constant to my questions.
źródło: Rommel Drives On Deep into Egypt
o źródle i prawach
tekst z archiwum "american dust" (brautiganarchives.xyz); z tomu "Rommel Drives On Deep into Egypt" (Delacorte Press/Seymour Lawrence, 1970)
11.06.2026