(song)
I was alert, timid and yours, tons of time
of turbulence opened. This silhouette is a getting lost of the burial
that tamps down with no tension the timpani, siblings
of the finger-tapping that cannot be obstructed.
I was alert and I kept a little of everything in this tarp.
I kept this thing with no terrain that seems to crush
when you open the curtain. Within you I traveled,
in you my forge was an attentive tremor.
I came and went as if it weren't for the voice,
this fence of ephemeral fuzziness.
Later, still yours in my seat, at the table
demolished by elbows inserted like branches
underneath, always incidental, beneath their lodging grateful
and guttural, I undefined the density still more.
Open in the eye, open at the spattered table
(which does not cease to extend its aorta seduction)
I was timid, a yoyo, a plum made of candles
in disagreement and hearts pressing
turbulently against the opened.
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