Tommi Parkko
In the ice there are bubbles

In the ice there are bubbles, mirrors, lenses superimposed, overlapping and crosswise. Red oozes
through my body, the light.

The flat-breasted ice, the skeleton in the tent.

This is ether day.
Ice bebome feeling, the even light is distorted,
I sense the moon, but its glows is in me.
(For the love of God, take care of our dear ones!)