Women: ie small beings who only think about work, career and politics, because once you are in love with an imaginary man, so unlike real man met, and we seek refuge in other imaginary realities, delude themselves that they can change. We
men instead continue to fall in love, perhaps because we never lose the hope to start over, to hell career and money, and if we are also a bit 'crazy, write poetry.
I also happen to speak of love in poetry, even if it hardly ever write love poems. Of course there are exceptions to this
love this love I would like to donate trees
I would like to donate thrills and certainty
animals
light and dreamy calm down a hurricane
To this I would love
donate
gesture which lifts the black butterflies
from your child's face
not yet faded
this love I give
water while sinking your feet into the dunes
a sunny desert
and proves that this love burning
I would give a dream to follow in
eddies of the night when you're far away and unknown
This is the last gift
April 12, 2008
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