and to in ambus has no

to clotears,

because even tiny banquet of a spider

is enougo upset tire equilibrium of the sky.

the moaning from a japanese schooner,

nor for tumble on the curbs.

tryside bites its oail in order to gats

and a ball of ya looks anxiously in tude.

the ocean liners!

facades of urine, of smoke, anemones, rubber gloves.

everyttered in t

t spread its legs on terraces.

everytter in tepid faucets

of a terrible silent fountain.

oh, crowds! loose women! soldiers!

e s,

open country whe docile cobras, coiled like wire, hiss,

landscapes full of graves t yield t apples,

so t uncontrollable light will arrive

to frigheir magnifying glasses-

t-

and so t fire ill able to piss around a moan

or on tals in ood.