on Bucşinescu street

on bucsinescu street

on  bucsinescu street
lights are turning
the denizens pulled
the shutters and chained themselves
behind the houses
only hot ashes and darkness
an inextinguishable darkness
our predecessors are dying
I think
they struggle
in the night as some wounded birds
only carnivorous flowers remained at the windows
holes in the air between life and day is a dirty crossing
transcendental ghosts are waiting the tongue-tied  tram
with the empty maxilary with flowers
are shimmering as if are strangled headlight
the man is thirsty
is today a disgusting carnivour
the teeth are choking
the fibring juicy meat is startling
gleams of stone are dripping
I stray with my hands in cross
through the empty room I float
known things a push-up bra
the golden purse a shadow on your face
the sweet scarf found again in your memory
the counterfeit words
it’s getting dark
I am telling you on…..
bucsinescu street
people are dying