MAN

Perhaps also, a man

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I AM THE TREE AND ITS SHADOW

I am the tree and its shadow

living and breathing,

the tucking bird with its wings

the captive buds of the rose

and its silences,

the light dew in the morning

the nakedness of the sky

and dye it with whiteness

the chimeras of dreams,

the wet laughter

of fish and children,

the rain that washes away, in murky cries,

the steely shadows of love

and their mirrors,

the time that, when he died,

transcends verse and flesh,

perhaps also, a man.

 

TODAY I WANT TO TALK

I want to talk today,

man to man,

with that one

that inhabits my veins

and it's my meeting

with that one

that silences the gaze

when I look

and in my skin, defenseless,

made a home.

And when I hear,

how, with a slight step,

it's coming to me,

I would like to answer you

in a hurry,

more blind,

in a light

so sweet and pure,

I can't see

bliss

that proclaims.

 

TUCKED AWAY IN THE TWILIGHT OF TIME

Tucked away in the twilight of time,

in the lights, early morning escapes

and the smell that escapes the loneliness

and the orange trees,

like a dog, tired, barking at the moon.

A sterile rumor grows on his lips

as they walk, aged, the days

and the fresh, wooded grass withers

that in the forgotten youth sprouted in his chest.

But the heart resists, it takes time to breathe.

And still wounded, that man, he looks up,

with fatigue, upwards.

 

I DON'T KNOW

I don't know,

maybe it's time

to pluck that blind man out of his eyes

the everyday way we go through the days,

to turn on the words that give light

to the sad house that from the cradle we inhabit

and unwind, barefoot, the ancient landscapes

that memory drags from one life to another.

I don't know,

maybe it's time

that the white doves

entwine our hearts in their wings,

and from such high beacons and such high transparencies,

to be the light that shakes, the vivid dreams of death.

 

LIFE LIVES ON IN OUR FRONTS

Life lives on in our fronts

how deception survives

in the clumsy shadows

that simulate death.

So, I breathe in the sunshine with joy,

the flower of the day.

The light does not cease,

nor does the dawn that sustains it cease,

the eyes cease, if they refuse to host

the bliss of the birds,

innocence,

the lukewarm heartbeat with which the spirit floods

of love, the flesh.

 

I WANT YOU TO KNOW

I want you to know that,

you stopped being light

to be earth, shadow,

flesh in the arms of death,

but don't worry, buddy,

in the brambles of the heart

survives, the immutable rose

that will light up the night in your eyes.

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