Along White Wardrobe Doors
The Sun’s blind eye
stares fixedly
along white wardrobe doors,
illuminates swarming flocks
of floaters
in sluggish vitreous bodies;
squawking flocks of gulls
in desolate consciousnesses;
the skies above the retinas
austere,
the protuberances flashing
crackling arcs
in the Sun’s black vision,
which squeezes shut
as the days seize hold
and wrench
inside
out
the seductive skin costumes’
ensemble of entrails;
hissing, gurgling, stinking,
under the hemispheres’ solar-wheel drive,
until the Sun arches its back, retreats, vomits
and sinks into its burning darkness.
Poetry by Ingvar Loco Nordin
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Written on 2026-02-05 at 14:02
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