YOU WENT OUT TO BURN
the droplets evacuated
by rain, one by one
their roles written,
crumbs held out
by the descent. You left
with so few matches,
and from outside now you look
at the eye that dries you,
reunited in the instant
that it snuffs you out,
a puff of air.

I AM THE INSIDE,
and I eat,
along the destroyed
edge
of the linden grove,
a wood porridge
sweet and thick,
and it is internal
in the heat,
I eat eggs
the place where trees
bloom,
the blackbirds weren’t singing
in those armchairs,
they were too big
and that’s why the voice made no sound,
but we all remember
with a scratch in our throats,
that it’s through
there the stems grow,
through the plumbing,
through the dirty chimney
yes, I eat,
I keep eating,
in the center
the mast still reaches,
a small sentry
with long legs
swings
from above,
food and furniture
move from one side to another,
and this is not a ship,
nor is it a forest
but the trunks whisper
and tremble, so narrow,
the creatures
were the joined hands
of one individual
that gathers itself,
I knew they were hands
but I saw a dove
that turned its milk inside out
and without completely opening
its beak,
it vomited.

IN THE BROKEN
hull of the rope
is the weight
of the package wrapped
for moving,
a light movement
of scissors
opens the world.
I land on feathers,
new feet build me
boiled bricks,
cut in regular
sizes, a row
of boots
that are put together,
a continuous line,
without end points
they follow the shortcut
or distracting cliff, its rocks
without muscles,
its attention lacking
any senses.
Never before had we
heard,
sometimes, sleeping,
we chew glass
suddenly the stereo speakers
turn on
speaking defectively,
without pauses
between the names
we write
and set in water,
like open flowers
that can’t hold themselves up.
Cross the street
without a street,
without traffic signals,
jump from one
bottle to another
without spilling us.

IT BREATHES TIED
to the armchair fixed
in place, the races
circling around inside,
with a change of lights,
the maps, the signals,
segments in the double doors
and a cross that indicates,
maybe,
the situation in another
window.
To sleep one had to
show oneself
to one
of the bedrooms,
wall against wall,
the gravity
of the right side
of the chair,
one had to
concentrate
on the still
green pain
of these almonds,
chew them
slowly, attentive
to their very small
screams
and speak with bitter
words, with sharp
and rationed voice
now that they tighten
the leashes
so that the greyhounds come
trained with whistles
and with prey.
It’s improbable.
Guess one
of its dog names.
Pronounce it
with exact
intonation.
It is a sudden bow
and arrow that points
at the nest, that shoots
the dark eye of the bird.
Because it finds the bite
that brings liberation.