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
