Poems by Vasko Popa
Before The Game
... See that there are no cuckoo's eggs Shut then the other eye ...
The Craftsmen Of The Little Box
... The dough of the stars will go sour inside her What are you doing for God's sake ...
The Prisoners Of The Little Box
... Would recognize it anymoreThe rust will eat your key ...
The Admirers Of The Little Box
... Forgetfulness into memoryDon't let your nails come looseFor the very first time ...
The Tenants Of The Little Box
... You'll take out the axle of the universeThe little box works for youThrow into the little box ...
Give Me Back My Rags #12
... On my own bumps and bruisesI'll be the hawthorn stake through you ...
Give Me Back My Rags #11
... Turned all the ends of the world from youWrapped the path of my life around you ...
Anne Pennington
... Begins to singHer death is like a short breath-stop ...
Between Games
... And sinks his head into his hands This one stretches his sight ...
Give Me Back My Rags
... My thoughts will scratch out your faceJust come into my sight ...
Give Me Back My Rags #1
... Give me back my ragsMy rags of pure dreaming ...
Far Within Us #2
... Alien presence look it's hereA shudder on the ocean of tea in the cup ...
Far Within Us #3
... Along the rims of my eyesOn the invisible grating ...
Far Within Us #7
... Noon has fallen into our handsAnd turned all gloomyAn open grave on the face of the earth ...
Far Within Us #4
... Before the fugitive windowsThe yards come out of their gates ...
