Ghoost

 

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Today’s Latitude and Longitude

 

 

  

The invisible grotto of hair

That is the vase of the sky

Drawn by the sun on the waterfall

Is recognized as the only wind

By my blood’s caresses

 

Escaping from the stone’s frightened leaves

Escaping from the road’s small white shoes

Escaping from the night’s lonely furrow

 

Too long to be long extinguished

Too trembling a coffin

To be the room where the flood orates

To its distant resemblance

the eye’s singed frost

too

 

Brilliant the straight fire

In the worms that are threads

Brilliant the crooked ruler

In the bird’s trains and limousines

 

All resounding with infinite

Globes of throat snow

Winter in your skin.

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DRIFTING...