STREETS THAT END IN YOUR NAME
A city will not remember your name unless you find it in her streets.
But youth unearths its names as pages torn
From a banned text: a scrapbook of stains.
We cannot allow this city to ignore us.
We piss our names on the walls of cathedrals.
Watch how letters seep through history.
When the night seizes its wounds, no one is a stranger.
Beneath the onerous arch, we scorch
Our maps. Sow ashes for the Lost.
Everything is real; nothing can be stolen.
Our legless voices snap an unknown line.
A bough broken across worn doorways.
Have you been hurt? Come and take a close look.
Climb the highest walls. Sit. Drink another
Bottle. Toss it. See it fall. Howl as it shatters.
Daniele Pantano 07.07.2009 Druckansicht Seite empfehlen