Elfriede Jelinek

tonight my sparrows let go the snow into fields of carnations swollen with anger. tonight the three popes proclaim the revolution against teenage television. seals smash their heads bloody their heads on the elevators the paternoster elevators which delays the holding of their conference. tonight my sister the wind's bride gives blood for the cello of the jericho desert which prompts the trombones to hold a protest meeting. tonight I hang your lips like birdseed outside my door and observe through the window their death-struggle with the she vulture. tonight let go the snow

april breath of  boyish red the tongue crushes strawberry dreams hack away wound and wound the fountain and on the mouth perspiration white from someone's neck a little tooth has bit the finger of  the bride the tabby yellow and sere howls the red boy from the gable flies an animal hearkens in his white throat his juice runs down pigeon thighs a pale sweet spike still sticks in woman white lard an april breath of  boyish red

rocket water eglantine wooden moon on the roof signs of night & the red motorbike's bleeding muscle fleshed stalk dripping and overgrowing our evening it too a sign of darkness a leek's fat body the red motorbike our night fire ravishment of chrome steel our red motorbike glazed with henna and betel it squirts salmon  juice between the dark of our thighs it sprouts and shouts at the bar it wears a portion of evening in its eye it sloughs off sleep like the bushes drop resin & berries our rags dip purring in even redder roar our muscles softly skip sweet sweat flickers we polish carefully & assiduously our eyes are perched on steel antennae surely there is nothing redder than our motorbike steed we will live on it our red tent dig our claws into its heart cherries meat it shouts out spittle rip the juice instructs the eyes in the language of iron the red night squats pressed against our motorbike we ride hunting little girls in the wooden sky

my puppet-strings are the sweet decaying lamps I flutter round. I am as immense as a black kid with a spinning top. drowned tripper fat crawls into hollow cuffs to be sewn up like hot cats cracked soft caryatids in tails. I'll force you all to your knees your dirty muzzles will squawk out of your faces. and I will continue to climb I'll spread my thin arms along the queer walls till they bleed. I'll reach into threadbare velvet so that you bash yourselves like poor moths on corners of night. the reason I'm here is to scratch all the white bellies squatting down there. your stupid silence I will  just toss up in the air. I am as sky high as all your staring regards laid end to end on the ground somewhere lies my broken smile.