I'm made of bone and flesh
to commit suckling sun
the feat of narrating
the sweet illusion of having lived.      
 
On the burning wire
nets thrown at auction
brought us back to the shore
the dry sphagnum moss of understanding.      
 
written pages
got out without worries
Sisyphus' pearls
from the dodger of circumstances.      
 
Late at night
had swallowed one by one
the sweets of reason
convinced that the worst was yet to come.      
 
Scars on all floors
raging iron and fire
picked the first plants
for new brilliance to appear.   
 
Extreme burns 
to the pandemonium of afflictions
under the veranda with fine dawn veils 
torn by the desert wind.

~ accomplished obsolescence.
 
 ( Drawing by Jean-Claude Guerrero )


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