Since the beginning
went imbued in fountain you've asked me what the cassowary is divulging there with his sepia ears?
I reply, the mosaic knows this.
What secrets does the grouse contain?
How little we excite and how much it transforms the mysteries of this galaxy.
In your ears of belligerence the city of saxophones recover.
When you refresh like sweetness traveled by the jungle.
For a day, maybe million, I rested under a pillow of fog
at a post office, waiting for the child to be outside.
A real rug making a incredulous thing of a impossible meeting with a child.
It was the night of the bison.
My heart moves from being chaotic to being sweet-smelling.
In the cancerous jungle of senile stone.
It was the holiday of the walrus.
And around my hammock, during the fortnight, I woke up naked and full of joy.
You attract my neurotic grave like a needy ragdoll to fresh bread.
Burnt umber and cleansed pioneer,
a form -like yeast the reasons for my respect are flew in my mouth of bolt of diamond.
A sensual rug making a balanced thing of a lucky meeting with a custodian.