|
|
|
If the sun
upon kissing the sea
paints it the color of fire
and the burning of its desire
blends the red with the black
and the blue with the dreams,
why don“t you kiss me, my love?.
If the sea...
|
|
A tree moves at the sound of a hair-dryer. A boy dries his hair with a hair-dryer blowing wind. Black clouds. The boy with his saxophone makes the elements move, empty pages...
|
|
i
I wish this baby, flannel, oatmeal, bells,
Balloons a kite, a bike, a cat, a phone .
I wish her tryouts, outfits, ocean swells
And dances, love notes, babies of her own.
But dare I wish...
|
|
Alone, with friends,
a date, amid a crowd
I shuffle up an incline,
down a stairs.
Why does the music
always seem so loud?
I navigate the knees
and coats and chairs.
And, as the house-lights...
|
|