Hole in One

who is m.skulls? Born in a cloud of stinking polvo he was raised in air so sharp and clean. Now he, way over thirty, but his brain working like two brains of a double fifteen, presents this little selection of verses which in many hours of sitting chair were his only escapada. Those verses sure do not have wings. They may not even have the correct number of legs. But m.skulls can't help but let them run. So he asks for forgiveness with the famous words of fellow poeta r.m.rilke: nicht alle dingen mögen gelingen