The Insight of fear
My fear:
A prehistoric beast
That knows without knowing
...
Hope is weighed,
Like the barbarous gold,
At the gates of fear.
...
Dream: the throat of my double sigh:
The one that wants to find the past.
The one that wants to lose it.
...
The mist-masks of dawn
Maybe
Early dawn
Is the goddess of my childhood.
...
By the red shore,
There where the day begins and ends,
I stand with a handful of dunes:
The statue of dream,
...
Among the courtyards of slow afternoons,
The fragile silence in my palm
Is just a porcelain cup
Scarred by the ritual of forgetting:
...
In parched afternoons
Too late for questions, too early for silence,
I sip the tea of my whispers:
The thirst that created my glass.
...
Sociability
I love the conviction of birds
Driving their content
To shade-lit spots warm with chatter:
...
The sum of emotion
Among the threads of hope and fear
I feel the fingers of my tremble,
As if they knew they were weaving into a tiny cloth
...
I wonder if fruits, marching above earth,
Half holy, half green,
Believe that roots
Really exist.
...