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Corrida - poems with and about angels

from under the ground trampled
by the bulls and the amphetaminic toreadors,
by the drops of acid rain,
the birds were furrowing the burnt sky
with six extra feet of illusions

***

between planks and soil, the gnash of worms
on the head of the rusty nails

in the coffin, built by the nuts from the edge
of the bullring, the heaps of bones upheld
the roof of brown feathers

***

Ole! Ole! – the audience hums an orison
oozing of pleasure

Ole! Ole! – underground, their king
Felipe

Ole! Ole! – La Maestranza quakes

the king, sniffing, on the angels’ shoulders
withdraws accompanied by Michael and Gabriel

through sky and earth gate,
roses and cheers

About This Poem

About the Author

Region, Country: Romania, ROU

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Comments

W

W.C.Wampler

17 years 3 months ago

corrida poem

M.S., Angels at the bull ring. The king sniffing, OLE'. Nice poem. wcw