Tarantino’s languor and dreaming back.
The cooling hoop of Jerusalem
Throbs.
Dull scales light up for a cruel look:
Hashishnik, child of the East.
He recoiled,
Saturnine bubbling by in grooves of drains,
Till she pumped into him one two three four slugs.
Snake croaked but by daybreak
Reddening bands of scales.
O cinema dragon, I take in your fumes,
Shadowy bodies pour from your darkening screen,
Immediate injection into your heart.
“Recognize it?” This snake city!—your brother.
Lumière’s finger twitches on the trigger.
Waiting the night army of roaches.
Translated by Dennis Silk