of all the hidden treasures on earth
muteness and silence are
among the most exclusive ..
a bird’s beak without notes
an adam’s apple without worms
an auricle at the bottom of the ocean ..
this is the very germ and seed
of a race different from the flowers
buried in the black soil ..
the subversion of the problem causes
a derailing from the historical terrain
with an articulation that shatters the border of light ..
what witchcraft makes us see
unfamiliar landscapes through the words
the way you read a face drowned in music
or interpret the wrinkles in an aging hand?
where has this life gone
in all the other teeming colored pictures
which the sun releases from its fishing net
in order to nail us to the totem pole of now?
everything which shoots our shadow on the open street
or sets fire to the nocturnal scenery of dreams
still there are lungs out there
willing to release the rush of life
and mingle with your own