I never paid attention ,
my finger was lonely amongst the night’s finger tips .
THE TIME GALLOWS
The night is still hanging ;
from the time gallows …
and never returned to bad …
Every morning , I pick a quarrel with my coffee ,
awaiting tender smile ….
so that the coffee beans blooms with passion .
THE COVER OF DARKNESS
Of course …
I will wake up the night from its rainbow dreams ;
to travel together into a spike ,
the morning is still in the distance tumbler ,
folded in the cover of darkness
READER OF THE GRASS
He departs while doodling his blood ,
extravagant in courting the sea …
and from the clouds’ cracks is reading the grass ,
hanging in the tree of the dusk .
THE POT OF THE TWILIGHT
Your night is my bouquet of waiting ;
the sky is the pot of the twilight ,
and I am ….
flirting this evening dropping-down ,
on your lips .
The night has shut its eyes ,
and tottered to the Will ….
THE LIGHTNING CHILD
After the last lines of rain ….
all of the stars encounter each other at the ascent of the sky ,
to brawl with the lightning child .
THE MISTAKES OF THE RAIN
I am there ….
filling up my suitcase with wind coughs ,
to justify the rain’s mistakes .
Embroidered with instants , it is deceiving ,
the trembles of the water ;
to runs all over in the wounds of distance .