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Poetry is the subtitle of our life's movie or maybe not it should be the proper life if we so decide or maybe not but it will certainly be the last bright flame fading away into the voracious death. A poesia é a legenda do filme da nossa vida ou

Cold tears persistent diamonds or opala that runs on veins masses and nodules glide on the windowpane and get lost in the oblivion ditch I look and see flowers girls at window whiskey books and I think reality that temps and moves us isn't always the one

I write under the dense and sensual caress of the American sun half-laying down in the park where too many and concise birds perch and depart for a circular destiny. Because I love you I know my skin cools down in contact with your absence as God comes