We sat there,
on the shore of that mirror-like lake,
pretending nothing is really important,
looking at the waves with black, empty eyes.

The sky’s drummer
could be heard clearly
from there...
and there we were stuck and scared,
     motionless, in fear,
listening to those whispering secrets
we told once
      to the wind...
We could not stand it,
there were so many words
      in the air.
However, I did not want to leave...
I was ageless contemplating
      those taking waves.
These waters send out messages of held anger
as the drummer in the sky does over our heads.

We are secret-keepers
and our stillness made me afraid
as much as the secrets carried by the wind does.

I wanted to sing loud
trying to silence the wind’s talk... and then
the last word fell down slow
into the lonely lake...

------------------

Circle   (I)

I put a spell on you
as strong as a pensive woman can,
and your eyes
will be thirsty,
drinking from their own dismay.
I dwell beneath
a lantern since then.
Hopeless. Pallid.
Nevertheless, more sure
with non-events to recall.

I am merely a subtlest
instrument of a major
patterned design.

I will write my spell
in the circle of recall;
it will became autumnal,
ancient,
but as long as you live
it will be intact.

---------------

Absence lives trapped
in clouds of gloss
on nights deprived of fear
and darkness;
a lifetime victorious moment...
beyond the force of fiction,
beyond the reach of reason.

-----------

The Road

I walked... into the darkest side of the road,
holding my breath
sweeping dead dreams.
The road... is an empty bowl full
of shadows.

I have forgotten the unforgettable, detestable silence.
Farewell... patiently wait my friend,
gray mornings
drop ice
and blood,
and tears.

I know now... what loneliness means...
lousy life,
    isn’t it?.

-----------------

DROWSINESS

There is a blue tune in the silence
while I am holding an open conversation
with this twin sister that I keep inside.
A blurred face,
sometimes ancient...
Tomorrow could be gray or pink,
it does not matter a bit.
Now on one bed,
we are sweating words that we have never said.
A flood tide of silence.
I can see it.
I can feel it.
Out of here, there are no dreams...
but she had promised
to take me to walk the way,
yonder sorrow heals itself...
tomorrow, surely, I will know
the secrets still hidden into myself.
A flimsy excuse to a clumsy escape.

--------------

SOONER OR LATER

Dreams, dreams...stopped there
in nowhere.
All my visions had gone to sleep
in a far place
where night is too long to stay.

I have been warned by the falling leaves
in my backyard.
Look!   their voices say,
there are so many people
feeling like you
like us!

Come!...sleep easy by our side.

-------------

MAKING LOVE

Eager raw meat eater...
all your body tingle with excitement
ditching candid ideas. Effete levity
after you take me, lifeless image of a woman
completely contented.

-------------

FABLE

Tell me stories of the darkside.
Show me ghosts, witches and bats,
tell me stories about the Death’s path.

Open up the squeaking doors,
make me cross swamps and fog.
Horror me with howling ghouls...

Tell me stories but do not forget,
before you leave, wake me up
after I am dead.

----------------

RELATIVITY

I am alone in the world of my dreams,
but I know that reality is surrounding me
because of you.
You are alone in the world of your dreams
and I know your reality
is not me.

For both of us Reality is a
silk-like word, a view through a wing
of a moth.

Simple things do not require verification,
we are wrapped, separately,
in our childish self-conscious
world of awareness.

I am alone in the world of my dreams,
but you are in there.
It is a matter of the relationship
between us in space...

---------------

HOLDING

It is raining again, morning blues
wrapping the minds.
Standing alone, out in the pouring
silver rain,
with our backs against the walls
still we are waiting,
holding an empty heart.
A voice in the air
calls us over,
it is time for a big change,
picking up the pieces
from this old,
    cold,
        gray
            day.

------------------

BIRTHDAY

I am turning as old
    as the world does today.
And all I can remember
    of you is a pretty smile
    and mischievous
        dark eyes...
with a clearly profound
emptiness inside.
But I am wishing you could see me now...

This woman is grown.
I am not a child anymore
    and in this unusual morning mood
I am feeling myself
        again,
reading myself again,
    putting myself on trial again, once again,
every year since I know my way.
    And now...
I get this feeling of disappointment.

It is a moody morning, indeed,
and my thoughts are wrapped up
in far memories. I feel kind of dull,
    weird,
        old...
    today,
        do you remember?,
            it is my birthday.

---------

JOURNEY

The doomed man does not weep.
It had been inscribed,
with hieroglyphs,
on the Gates of Talk and Wait.
No dreams, no hopes.
A woman waves farewell there.
She has begun her journey
out of speechlessness.
In agonizing torture she believed
no one’s mourning her departure.
At the Gates of Talk and Wait
for many days a stranger waited.
The noises of silence
are the only answer to his quest.
She never knew the Truth,
and in the interval
between night and day
she can be seen throughout
the Gate of Never Again,
and there she still remains.
The doomed man,
with dry eyes,
stands staring in at
the front of the Gates.
No dreams, no hopes.
An endless wait.

-------------

TUESDAY

Bad thoughts...dancing
around my corner,
lazily.
I can not see them but
feel them...
from now on.
I am still waiting
for the spring time.
This winter is gone silently
but, do not take me wrong!
I’d like to be nowhere
for one last time.
Bad thoughts...they could have been worse.

______________

MASK

Descending face
    without eyes,
grumbling sharp words
    meaningless, cutting in two
    a naked heart.
None emotions showing...
    there aren't any         inside.

---------------

EGG-FRIEND

This egg
could be brooding
for decades
without
getting anything from it.
The little thing
inside
is dead.

-----------------

BLIND SPOT

A blind walking spot...
    not inside out sighs.
If you believe
    each of us has a soul
yours is screaming by slow dying.
A blind walking spot...
    that is you,
blind spot...
spot...
    walking,
        breathing,
            blind spot...
                spot
                      .

----------------

COSTUME PARTY

Dance,
dance,
I want to dance
the dismal rhythm
at midnight.
Croaking toads will be the Orchestra,
ugly dwarfs will sing the songs.
I want to dance
facing the moon
unmasking the sleeping demon
chained inside.
I want to expose
his ghastly heart...
The creeping nightly creatures
looking at me will laugh.
I want to dance!.

--------------

CIRCLE   (II)

Slowly melting out,
slowly dying away,
aged and blurred
with a patchwork pattern,
and emotional circle
has come to complete itself.
Tossing and turning
as a lazy snake,
line and dot, vicious circle...
weaving good-byes
two foggy figures walk
separate ways
into another day

---------------

SOWETOS OF THE WORLD

Black chant,
black chant.
alleluia, alleluia,
praises to heaven.
Black dreams full of hopes
crying out miseries.
Thousand quell little hands,
singing begging eyes,
alleluia brother,
black chant for a God
with no ears,
with no eyes...

.................

IMAGES

It is late afternoon, the last sunrays
are falling smoothly
over the grassy backyard.

I am looking at my notebook open on the floor...
a small radio drop sounds of sweet music
giving to this room a peaceful feeling.

There is a wine bottle, and old lighter,
a half cookie and a little red flower
with my purse on a magazine

and close to this small world
myself, keeping my chin up
looking at all this.

The music flows on the wind
and my loneliness feels an envy
I could not figure out.

Laying down facing the ceiling
I put my head on a pillow
and thinking
something
my mind slips...I fall asleep.

-------------

COMIC

I still keep the comic strip
you gave me once:
“...I fear life.
    I fear death.
    I fear emotion.
    I fear confrontation.
    I fear women.
    I fear men.
    I love television...it is a cure for all
    I fear...”
You never knew how right it was,
lucky guess if I think
how little you knew me then...
how little you know me now.

-----------

FENCE

I am in here, inside looking out.
Streets...full of happiness out there

I'd rather be here looking far through the window,
over that fence, as spellbound being watching
what can not be seen.

I'd rather be here, do not ask me why,
my answer would be like a vicious circle of pure nostalgia...

--------

IMMATURE

...whispering smelly words into my ear
with sax music as a fogged background
a simpering feeling
is dropping, dropping...
    out of space,
    out of line,
    out of time.

......................

Words

To tell a story
of entangled lines
I have to walk
a narrow path
beyond the wasteland of words.

It would not stand on speech alone...
but talk is touch.

To tell a story
of an entangle rise and fall
I would have to twist
into a big guffaw
and then forget
all that I've been told.

---------------