jueves, 24 de julio de 2014

What gathers buzzard’s clouds

What gathers buzzard’s clouds

What patiently waits
Wetly confident
Below a triangle of hair

What goes up from roots
Through trunks, branches and leaves

Comes down
As seeds disguised
As sweet fruits

Produces the impudently seductive
Fragrance of flowers

And the crunchy after death
Of dead leaves

While licking
Salt and minerals
From dirt

What lies below
The hollowness of valleys

What takes healthy girls
To hospitals

To give life
In a stormy planet
To storms loving childs

What you can find
When you are a strayed cat
During the night

Inside the alleys of cities
Not irremediably condemned
To nuclear obliteration

What’s really is inside clouds

What poor’s houses windows
Irradiate outside

What the rain makes to garbage

What girls bring to planet
Sportive Saturdays

What’s coming down from stars
Day and night

What’s dry inside
Blue sky
Behind clouds

What’s sweet
In the dark clouds
The human machinery
Eagerly exhales

What feels a child
With his first bike

What claims for another beer
That one you shouldn’t buy
If you were rational

What remains after oblivion
After the eternally decaying recalls

What bored antennae
Are trying to find
In the radio signals
Of other galaxies

But is rampant
In the realm of these animals
Colored like
The surface of the planet

I’ll be always hungry of it

What my love
Give to me
I’ll always try to fit

Li Tao Po

To Elia

VABM July 24, 2014

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