Poetry by Peycho Kanev

perfect night

the ants swing violins in the
dirt and the spider is silent and
calm;
all the belly dancers swim in the
deep blue see
and the fish cry under the water and
all the poets write poems about
death
but they never come even close

here is only this dim light from the
lamp
here is this bottle of marvelous red
blood
here is the beginning of the end and
the life again
and the dark
again

the whole ocean is preposterous
and dull;

the flowers dance in the dark;

the death is the biggest
allegory.