voar

a dor das asas persiste após. longamente após. tanto bater.

quando somos pássaros. somos o arder da atmosfera. inteira.

bates-me com tuas asas quando somos pássaros inteiros a arder.

a atmosfera fala de lábios e de cavalos. somos a arder. tanto.

bates-me agora. torrencialmente. com teu agora. corpo de agora.

como nunca. a carícia de nunca mais. a persistente dor de após.

tanto. arder. espera. a dor abre o girassol do silêncio. somos.

espera. havia fúrias lentas na primeira música. as trevas na boca.

no meio das palavras. o ar. o fim do ar. somos principiantes. tanto.

começam na sombra as asas. quando somos nunca. o ar. após as fúrias.

espera. havia feridas nas trevas do girassol. a carícia bate após arder.

mot

un mot s’avance, découvert, les mains nues, à ses risques et périls.
Et plus il risque, moins il souffre.
Or, il risque tout, il est le danger en mouvement.
Donc, plus il s’égare, et plus il féconde et innove l’engendrement de ses chemins, aux confins de l’inconnu.
A la fin, naît l'Origine comme un peu de sucre après l'angoisse.

a construção

sempre a construção tem os músculos do construtor

medir a distância

a distância é o esforço necessário para tocarmos o fogo que deflagra no vazio entre a pele e a pele

digo lentamente que soletro o fogo que me te
digo mais que sou serei sou serei este esforço este sempre este digo
ou não sou nem serei
ser nem ser
não nem nada

PS: o esforço fica atravessado na garganta das letras...e aí começa a transpiração da linguagem ou o milagre de falar línguas confusas, com atmosferas baixas, coladas à pele, de nevoeiros e vulcões. Vêm seios e meandros às mãos dos símbolos que não sabem onde donde para onde. A dor que salva é o que não ou o que sim ou ambos e outro e mais na distância de

mesurer la distance

.la distance, c'est l'effort...nécessaire...pour...Te...Toucher.

.l'effort, c'est moi...en...déséquilibre...et...secret...de...pas.

.le nécessaire, c'est me définir...comme...inclinaison...vers.
.pour...toi.

sunset

limbs are trajectories of wild sunbeams and why much why
before and throughtout the Whole Now

I'm ready for my close-up

I need more much more than that more and much burnout
my body longs craves hungers for much movement more than enough
more than that tango or rebirth toward a unifying theory of shades

Undress this and that
I'm fully Here ready off coast off to-morrow

You approach the infancy of good beginnings to-night

I'm ready for my close-up

PS: This supposes an understanding of Mathematics: the mystery of One. Its tongue implodes. My mouth vanishes. No plan. other than the forgotten fear of falling.

based on insanity

this is a story of a pre-kiss and of its fever.
a story based on insanity or maybe not.

this river is yours. mostly. since today. on the eve of dying for. if not.
mountains will be mine or will not be. at all. nonsense. wrapped. off. me. mine. the days. open unearth the voices. fire again. but more confused. through the second or third layer of skin.
minute drops and lines in the fire. within misery. who comes first and drinks me. mine. the acid. salt and sugar. confusing mornings. hold lips against yours. the rivers that will come. if not. no fight. no wreckage on oceans too much mine.
comes who can and cannot. at once. skin of mine will and will not. Be.

this river
is and was bleeding before wells
black sweet hours of loosing neither or both wings. yours and mine.
how much yelling. bodies come as winds. instantly.

uncross the fibers. off. within those words and keys.
until breaking or before...wellbefore the remotest skin...tastes ruins...at all...dust of skin from stars...layers of stars...this moon is yours deeply...made of poison...delicious...easy flow...ask me...if not.

whose hands...no...not a sound...of prayer or demand or impulse...like rain midnight broken physically in pieces...off...your womb...
your womb is on my way...the simplest ring gravitates...my hands or fever...our rain...our stones withing singing...like no love ever before us... two hours before the oceans preparing the gesture...off. sands...

lips are rivers easy rivers within the currents the veins...no love ever...ever...studied the brute matter like ours... yours or mine... the dust of skin...made out of wild drums beating our fibers...the minutest one by one...infinitely...as the Ultimate Stuff...

Could I...Could You...Ask not whether only a minute the minutest fiber or breath...before dawn...your naked possibles...riches...the speed...high and raw...on those curves...those rivers...yours...why today the very first Yes...re-does...the One...wave off...us...wildfire through every layer of Here...bleeding beginnings...