Each step, a turn of the key. A
sit empty-handed. One
beat of wings.
M'aggrappo the branch of rock
quant'anche true
prefer an old oak tree trunk with eyes closed
hold
trigger the gong and
stunning and scattered memories.
Lunch in front of my speech
(ringing in part)
vibrating metal between the ribs and
know which is the table on which to fight a waiter
flattering, coffee
two warm croissants and black sugar
pronounced frequency otherworldly.
swords are invisible
destroy the containers, those your twins, I could materialize there
loosening the leash a few millimeters or
the hinge that is keeping me
fixed to the edge.
remain solid, I laugh at my taste
volcano lava casts
fin'alle extremes
vents, fingerprints,
the couch not to take the anchor off
lip-
the dock of my dream and I
a helium balloon from the ceiling imprisoned
our voices echo far
contemplate the nice empty
the puddles on the roof of the garage
your hands to the face. Close the curtains
feel like making love with you.
0 comments:
Post a Comment