did not go by time but the broom continued to grow between the stones of indifference
equal along the cracks of the lava
inks go back up to find the words to be able to say something more
-hair, are different, white ... -
false and real, I approached the shelter of the mind Crazy For when the absence
when the smoke thickened eucalyptus behind the banks of memories when I laughed and laughed
or naive sprung from the hands of the surrealists
-shoulders also seem bent ... -
the wandering life to sip at a time
media episodes by surrounding walls and gates to give and withhold
not counting the small change that makes life a continual waiting
-smile, smile ... there is no more -
I come back every day in the clearing where I can meet you and tell you
father-but-you know the emptiness of the empty cavity unlawful
eye pierced by a sun that is not to cheeky aside
-and even voice ... -
calendars, such as brooms, continue to fill
signs and other children are already grown
misery on the road while a tin moon follows me step by step
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