nurdles

transom

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,

it disperses.