dwarf

in literature •  6 years ago 

That's affected bad habit
whistle.
All that could, pulled the sacred pipe.
Cold dog
tin and roll the bones,
the old right to tremble in a single-breasted overcoat.

The enemy swells
at Panska stocks yeast,
the sacrament of the flesh is divine,
at least vulnerable.
Bend your joints in the arms of the fairy Dragee —
act on the limit of immortality
and pantomimes.
Tin, who would believe, is vulnerable,
although not artfully seized an edge,
flexible habits
the thinker and the man:
came on the air
and sitting in a barrel with a lantern,
or awake and wandering,
cherry El Greco.

Or jumped on their heads and no GU-GU,
as if entire life boots on whose any the body.
Let the vertebral heads
to bend in an arc.
If it wasn't for that annoying
the smell of the flute.

Disclaimer: I just found these in my library. I do not have the rights to them,
I just them and decided to share them with you.

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