stars spinning around
the trees and the tent
bonfire flames growing
upwards with legs
twisting and shoes
kicking a basket of mushrooms
silenced inside the mouth
word-endings scatter
a hundred seas rumble in my head
somebody hits a drum in the distance
or is it the wind only nestling
between the pines of the forest
a salty taste in my throat
scratching the kettle’s bottom
why in the seven hells were there
fly agaric in my soup?
61×86 cm
sold