grasshoper? grashopper

my dead relatives.

they would like to swim one night,

when I drank Pool's water.

but when Pool was cremated,

his ashes spread on hot windows - like a jaguar's knee

like an emerald tree when I look above,

and see a resonant silverpiece

I dreamt of proyections inside projections outside projections inside me.

and then:

I'd lay down like a broken raindeer.

and then:

my nostrils bled

in a lotus. trash & milk.

holding the conversation,

underneath a lake. wires that fell over in an ire of fives. fives.

my leaves, they never burnt.

they'd never dry. I'd save them like an apostol's diary.

when I think of waxed multicolour beauty bug organisms

and the lovely treasure

you had the tact. I went away.

I had the curved eyesight of a non-poet.

when I heard myself like a broken stick ahí está tu colisión de planetas.

sinking into a cave is a grave marked in the rosarium of the week,

resignation is the bread and butter for the fake trascendentalist

luna. luna. luna.

thus spoke Zarathustra.

well, I'd rather hear the olive blankets of your ears

wrapping me on the desert lines in the double exposure of the sun.

laying down on the grasshoper's hair

while my cheeks fall over your shoulder,

I'd be happy to hear your amber soul through waves of delicate songs awash in holy laughter,

whenever you forgive me,

I'll wait,

I'll wait.

smoked glasses might obstruct your view.

but I'd like to make them brighter,

can I? just for a day on a golden hair,

and take some photographs like you said we would,

the last one's me trying to reach you with heavy eyelidstones

tonight. hoping you will not erase me with a rubber-band.

I'm not forcing a ghostly can't.

I'd just like to keep writing this very long scroll. old. impatient.

I miss you.

so much.

and I should be happy.

but your silence...isn't.