Kinga Tóth – Three poems

(Translated from All Machine.)


dipped into concrete as kids
connected by mother-figure
the ornamental poles
redirect edges to the visitor
perennial plants living
in dense humidity covering
entrance opening at five points
these are not ruins
on the wrist and heads
painted ceramics
pages glued together
are kept wet by
insects in vain
the edges harden


shoulder on the seahorse thighs of her
Elba is a wave on fish mermaids
the sounds based on whistle pipe
all blown out from her mouth
deflating air

her body is drilled for singing
tubes pulled out letting
air out of the mouth and on new
surfaces they touch all of them
blowing into small orifices
singing through her chest


precedent numbers
are destroyed by the boys
the sufficiently working parts
of prototypes are planted into
the new ones producing
series from the flawless
new ones get the filtering work
smelting the expired
plates tightening on
this place of sacrifice
chocks separate
the intertwined products
the covers slew down
the chock chisels a notch into the
inner side firmly gripped by the vise
the material slides on the side
after a squeak it relieves and loosens
swelling in the vise it’s filed shell
imprinted with the next following number


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