Congrating A Friend For Having A Baby

Apnea

.




The wound carved in the palm of his hand
is the full circle of his existence ocean
uncertainty at the border of his ward
a winding road in the None of his nights
it crosses ocean in silence ... snorkeling

Nobody is there to give the syllable
days naked and vulnerable when her breathing
Walked to the closed doors of dark faces
these yesterdays sad and sweet that oiling
words in pure river of his sentences

Small bodies of dead birds under the leaves
humus eyelids open to blue sky
matter is offering a written record
little sign of the air gray eye of the angel
ephemeral writing attached to the boom of the winter

Far it touches all the dark lines
with the certainty that poetry dies
his writing is light at the heart of darkness
in this great wreck of stars born loss
snorkeling it plunges into the abyss of page

words fugitives running on the roads wave
crisp lines and precise all at the edge of the sentences
her children are angels from nights of salt
their necks they wore garlands of consonants
beads vowels ... and language to round



(Painting: Landscape unusual (Detail) / maria-d)