THERE IS ONLY ONE MORE WELT
Translated from the Slovenian by Peter Richards and Ana Jelnikar
There is only one more welt staring
out of my destiny. Out from this welt I write. The welt
hurts. If somebody had cut open my welt
earlier, I still might have been able to
elbow my way out. I would have taken
my destiny off like a shirt and watched it
rotate. I have been doing this since the moment
I had myself incinerated and gave birth to my first
line in order to be calm.
I’m letting you know the exact order:
Poker, The Purpose of the Cloak, Pilgrimage for
Maruška, The White Ithaca, America,
Turbines, Arena, Imre, The Hawk, The History of
Light is Orange, Feast, Druids, Stars.
The Angel Method is for me.
Thereafter there is nothing.
I have no power over myself.
This poem is rather poor.
I am only writing it because
I feel I have to explain.
I am crystal clear.
Full insight into me is forbidden.
I have never been human.
Always an angel.
After reaching perfect shape,