Naked

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In Paris and nowhere...

Magic Magnetic Paris

in the painful steps of Henry Miller

Beardy Paris

in Hemingway`s lazy thirst

Asking Paris

in a space inbetween my last verses

Headless Paris

fallen on the Place de la Concorde

Silent Paris

where Monet thought about Thames

 

Behind my back

I feel the transparent eyes

of poetic Paris whores

who are counting the years

to the dirty boulevards

co-ordinated to wine paintbrushes

                                             oval winnings

                                             famous towers

And they`re looking forwards to death

while they write down on the ground

by the wings of Sin:

 

"Paris is a naked sentence."


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