my heart closes like a nocturnal flower ...
Grouchomaniaco
Photo
Poem 13
I've been marking crossfire
the atlas of your body.
My mouth was a spider crossed hiding.
In you, behind you, fearful, thirsty.
Stories to tell to the edge of twilight, sad and gentle doll
, not to be sad.
A swan, a tree, something far away and happy.
The season of grapes, the ripe and fruity.
I who lived in a port from which I loved. Loneliness cross
sleep and silence. Cornered between the sea
and sadness.
Soundless, delirious, between two motionless gondoliers.
Between the lips and the voice something goes dying. Something
winged bird, something of anguish and oblivion.
way nets can not hold water. Doll
mine drops are just shaking.
However, something sings these fugitive words. Something
sings, something goes up my eager mouth. Oh
able to celebrate with all the words with joy.
Sing, burn, flee, like a belfry at the hands of a madman.
My sad tenderness, what you all at once?
When I have reached the most daring and cold
my heart closes like a nocturnal flower.
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