Sunday, June 11, 2017



The thing to do 
when naught is left―
hold on to dreams, 
and after dreams
        to nothing.

Are you afraid of the wolf
who inhabited your nightmares?
Look at your teeth,
they're ready to devour him.

My friend discovers an invitation to mystery
where I see nothing but empty space.
When he sings, I ask him to be silent.
When he runs, I demand that he not move.
My friend always in the middle of life

while I’m barely more than a blind eye
looking at him without understanding.
Watch him run knowing I cannot reach him,
listen to him sing without grasping a word.

He with his rhythm in the middle of life.
I, saving the fall, hooked to his gaze.

To become a wrinkle 
is the condemnation of my friend.
For him, the beam of my heart,
good morning is a human right.

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