The earliest poem says midnight
from line to line facing the silenced spasms crushing images breathing
off times and times
I stress midnight poems
the tensions that ensure some Art
within hunger green and furious
midnight muscle tissues
also written are expansions of utopian rhythms
almost midnight partakes this crowd off
contraries
-
Maybe birds dream within my Desiring Freedom and cross everything the closures of gardens, hearts, and manuscripts -
Eros, o Noturno. Eros, o Assaltante. Passas as horas sonhando sem nexo: Rende-te ou eu acabo-te! Canta-me ou eu grito! Beija-me ou eu devoro...
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