Snapshot of the I.M.F. by B.B.

copper and tugsten oscillate
in lima and also lusaka
hunger and rage get cudgeled on the streets
world’s banking agiotage agents agitate themselves
act act now
murrow park wasshington d.c. is where
bureaucrat gods of sweated axils and prolix laughter
skim and classify cataracts of computer paper
separating life from death
they have their blood pressure rigorously watched
and detailed medical reports at the end of the month.

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Broken bottles under children’s feet

the night falls on an inured continent
i see beirut on tv
tomorrow i’ll be at durban maybe
jerusalem belfast seoul
there’s a real city on my mind
filled with all of the world’s fiction
with protecting wire nets
rats on the terraces
the filthy grape-shot on the streets
the next block there on the distance
one more step on the asphalt.

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Introduction to the theory of catastrophes

the quark is probably divisable
and we’ll never know a great deal about
matter’s economy information entropy heat
do not search for beauty resist
voices that don’t call you nor listen
grow and organize yourself.

“in truth i live in an era of darkness -
said b. b. (1898-1956) -
a word with no duplicity is an absurd”
science proposes hazard games
the politicians smile
and a cloud sets in on the heart of europe
filled with secret thoghts
already shared with no horror
springsteen in minneapolis and juventus
on the alps stadium there’s an electric vibration on the air
i fill it pass through
it whips the heart of the crowds
and this beats in unison brutaly with
no meaning.

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To the Smolny

man is nothing - only the carcass of time
that precarious balance and tension of muscles
book and sword
a silhouete carved out against the wind
on the prospect
enemy cavalry crosses him
dyed hair
a lugubrious look tied on the sidewalk
he is entering entering that ablazed night
passing to the other side of time
and he is time rewriting itself by his stepping.

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