.
I want to be a tree or a broken heart, a belly
troubadour
on bare sand.
the morning mist draws a cherry ghost
plunging his solitude in a land
obscure.
kiss my girlfriend forgotten
swallow soft traveling in a ray of light, and we wander
over thunderstorms
where are our prayers and our fragile
eyes.
Antigone eyes tightrope, I
laziness instant
breast
fertilizing each days
the sacred sand of my story.
[text combining the keywords identified by the search engines to arrive on my blog - see text 1 and 2 ]
