VOICE

Dedicated to my seven friends

by Prvoslav Vujcic

Clouds falling upon us
Underworld’s powder mill sparks
Earth chars on our lips
Compact like bunkered roots
Lying low in sticky nonsense
All we hear is the voice

Follow me

Irrepressible and forceful
We charge behind his nape
Homicidally lashing swelled shadows
As if behind us nothing existed
Besides casings of infected clouds
In whose spilled relics
We trample ourselves
__________________________
The poem Voice is from
the book Repatriates (UBC Canada Press, 2013)
by Prvoslav Vujcic
__________________________
Urban Book Circle® (UBC)

Poem & Photographs: Prvoslav Vujcic
All rights reserved 2013. Copyright © Prvoslav Vujcic

Publishing house: UBC Canada Press
All rights reserved 2013. Copyright © UBC Canada Press

Published by Urban Book Circle on July 16, 2013
Urban Book Circle® (UBC)