sin roce no hay cariño V

 

 

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sin roce no hay cariño IV

 



 
 

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when I fell

 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 

gashô      gashô      gashô      gashô      gashô

 
 
 
 
 
 

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H     E     R     E          N     O     W

 
 

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There’s the archaic blue

 

July the 6th

 

There’s the archaic blue’s

infinitely soft gradation of a smile

— a hum, birds tunning,

kids on nap time;

then, spurted all over

pods give birth to clouds

parsimoniously moving towards

a loophole, shit I forgot the sun.

Well, behind everything

and leaning to the right

is the sun with his sun glasses

baking a rythm

and eating potato chips.

Ahó majo Sun!

 
 
I turn 180º and now

there are mountains also

of green in all possible shades

from a deep existentialism

to acidic reed-rides of joy.

This breeze is cool but not so

that carries anybody’s dreams.

I just don’t know.

Pain on my neck,

must have hurt myself when

I was being born earlier

this morning.

 
 
Dogs remaining

and so is silence.

The shark kidnapped by the wind

lives inside the house now;

actually he’s a dysfunctional door.

There’s nothing to be learned

all insects insist.

– – – unison – – –

I close my eyes, take air with a long breath

and let existence

swipe me to the left.

Now I’m present

Now I’m past

Now I’m future

always again

now present

now future

past now

now

now

now

now

ow

ow

ow

oooooooooooooo
o
o
o
o
o
o

 
 
Lying on the ground I can hear

the leaves talking backwards

their trembling exchange of secrets

with the smaller winds.

A minuscule spider just climbs and just crosses this notebook

smiling and singing a generic bib’s tune.

The birds, the flies, and distant children’s laughter,

all in through the same ear

It feels really really really really

real, relaxed yet riveting…

I try to spoil the moment

thinking I’d love to be embraced,

entangled with another body,

with a woman’s body;

no one in particular,

just any woman with an energy akin.

That it would be nice

to breath onto each other

to share the intimate praxis of

trying to make one layer of two skins.

But then… a gust of wind,

flapping birds, tree dancing

‘nother deep breath and… this is reality.

Yes! I take it, respectfully over any day-dream borned longing.

I smile… falling asleep within a warmth current

All is good

all is good

 
 
 
gashô

 
 
 
Anouk and her entourage of 52 colored cats wake me up:

“Do you have shaving cream? I want to make slimmies”

My hand on the tiny bare foot, her skin is buttery smooth…

I caress it and hear myself answering in a tender manner =)

 

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zombie homes

 

gashô
 
 

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JOÃO ➌➌ if it’s a portrait is mine

 

                       gashô
 
 

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