top of page

Jean D’Amérique, translated by Conor Bracken

worth the price

knowing the earth is still comatose
they strew stones over the regrowth
your wound grabbed a hold of bandages the world
nothing can summit the blue that seals itself

 

not only teeth are laboring at the façade
like scissors snipping short fabric’s reality
being happy is worth the price
of tears appareling a face that looks
like one origin of death
the naked eye can name

bottom of page