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Dark light of my dark days,
shows the form and rivers secret
suffer large, each vital to go
drunk and wind surf
scented rooms and shelters
where the crab is hiding.
turbulent and this is my time of loving enthusiasm
juncture. Still hanging from the sky
is the face on those dreams of the many faces
often abandoned the memory dies.
Turbo birds glide in the wind and instead wisely
uncertain is the sound of my step
restless and ingenuous
inesitato drying up. My people know
branches bent to the northwest and in the old colors
violent
sinks or relax in the sweet September
to wither.
I've left alone: \u200b\u200bI
dreams stolen from the hard and cold star, the black star
sleepless
I admired in my first morning.
March 7, 2009
