My hands are big laid
against the sky
And I remeber everything ever born from them
Smoke falls from my eyelids
a danger to the serenity of this night
I have past ideals fogging the synapses of my brain
To caress someone's hair is nothing more that touching their electrons
A series of sparks like flashes of light
The stars are not confroming to constellations tonight
While I move with them like a universe to their thought
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem