On the roadside

Sitting in my room –
thoughts flit
in the air like knives –
the girl posing without
tremble in the frame
of the light – thoughts
are pins and needles
at the foot – they tickle
ankles – knees –
They climb on the thighs –
the hips – they shore
the thousand steps studded
– On the roadside –
an angry mob –
and arms are detached
by the body as greedy
insects low cost from the flower
rich in pearls and vitality –
then return like swarms
that enrich the box office –
on his back recline
the doves as dolphins
who sew infinitely
the edges of a cut –
the kiss of a grimace
which pierces the intolerance –
in hair tiptoe
fall exhausted from the caves –
drooling little devils
that blind the contours –
and tremor – in my thoughts –
comes over me – I won’t be able
to climb on the tree –
and I can’t see the road
flourishing in tongues –
of holes that fill the spaces
around a corpse.







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