an iron collar, different than
a sacred mushroom, strums paths of
Let us vulcanize claws of the earth’s
mind for this
Cursed be a baboon and this
He guards the mushroom, he doesn’t
eat it. The same rain keeps
falling on the sacred texts, even
if you don’t lick honey clean.
The rings are violated.
For to encounter the moment
when the world starts to smell life
demands my name.
Translated from the Slovenian by Michael Thomas Taren and author