A lifeless finger in the lips of the anchorite.
Before, a lot of time ago - let me tell you-
A simple little wind fulminated the galleries
Where I played with toy ponies.
The day dances in your red lips
The world is a cloud
Two tiles the city that raves
And I am telling you this.
A honeysuckle climbs my face
The Sun rises from the wall of the backyard
Where you play with cards and make castles of bumblebees
Stoped in full flight.
The abattoir stopped its shouting for a minute
The door was closed
And we saw an empty truck crossing the thin way
The burning powder got up behind as a hurricane
And the truck was led by a ghost.
The singer honeycomb was hanging from the maple
Where we made the little house of the tree
To protect ourselves from the drizzle of mercury
That fell that entire summer.
I was a circle of stained wire coiled in a stick
Dad was the edge of a sword threaded in a rock
Mom was a rust of syrup in the forage of the sowed field
And our brother of sand still had never moaned.
Then I was pulverized stone, was a fist of powder
Getting up on the way
Filling the eyes to the old owners of the field
And sometimes dad helped me cutting the legs
To their already dead cattles.
We bought our house with the lead
That had stuck to the rocks
That grew only that year
In the quarry of our garden of silica.
We buried grandma in a hole under the arch
At the entry of the village
Mom threw flowers while she cried
And from the wetland grew a brand new river.
I became forester, stalking from the top of the world
I was travelling in dreams by the radiant constellations
Until a wave of ashes undermined my soil
And I fell as an air tunic between the cedar's line.
I saw with more clarity, a sea parted from my eyes
And it went down by the slope of my scratched chest
It flooded my navel, I spied my own mind machinating
I saw the fluttering of the atoms: they were chords of light.
The night, this night simulated by you
When you close your eyes and call me
It whirls in the window, crowds
Whole, in spiral, on itself
And it swallows me, on itself, turning myself in you.
The biting of the day
Amputates the legs
To the mechanical bull of the park
Do not cry, every five minutes I look at the wall
Where it climbs the Sun
Bite bite bite
The Sun eating up the wall that is the evening.
The shout of the breeze slipped under the door of my bedroom
Your face was a rainbow-coloured pen of a sentimental goose
Where it sleeps, playing, the reflected night
Out you were not alone, and when I opened the door
The barking of a dog erased my face.
The entire fantasy of the world
Splitted from my face
I was a rind perforated
By the twilight's wind.
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