My first poem was a carob tree and
a silver vomit
Sylvia Plath
-a casual encounter, the only women at the dinnerparty-
The second one, an assignment from
an overweight man fatten up with ants
A question to an elderly man in who
I didn’t believe any more
-the first rhetorical resource in the History-
The third, pure masturbation
deformed body
-an idle pronoum-
The forth… well beyond my best poem
Complete silence
-Health-
The fith, it ramains to be seen
(equi)distant
-more fat, better love, more corpses-
