The steel of time


A flag disturbs the emptiness in the dark of the room, leaving the chairs in the perennial interrogation of the future. A quiet sound remembers the dark colour side of the blood.

I am going to seat myself a little in the hands of the time.

I found that still I am waking up in the way of the life. I found that I make a road of this liquid silence that the hymn repairs.

I am a second in a foam sea, over your flower road.

Repairs of a stop sign flows from the step stairs. I count cents that I write while I know myself in the steel of the time.

A soft leg allows some luminous joys in the roses.

A victory to cover grass is enough to me … it comes to me from your gold lust.

The body of the flower


There where fifteen minutes of soft waves. You where the legs if the mix of the hair, the memory is the volcano of the sea.

A light of air flies away from here.

I remember the pollen that burns the avenues, the places where the blood adventures. When I had nothing, I walked the garden of flowers.

There was a perfume.

With you it was a limpid fire within.

An abyss was known inside the path of disclosure, I had to close the windows. It was a love vanished in the blade of secret wounds.

It was then that I found you, within the tree of the waves. You wake me up, for the body of life.

Then … I am obliged to everything else.