dawn this morning    
tel estrange in mantille    
wait for the kiss of the sun    
sea ​​conch    
in a deaf mood solicited    
on the lips    
between thumb and forefinger    
that the Big Cat nibbles.        
 
Slow flight of the shroud    
in the crumbs of the night    
follow the desiderata of oblivion    
without the wolf growling    
expected early    
on the sidelines of a team    
who brought him without firing a shot    
at the palace steps.       
 
Without a doubt    
medieval syllabary of the tender hours     
the terminal leaves of the almond tree    
graph the sky    
of a significant offering    
harnessed ear mask    
with a leap of the heart    
in mild catalepsy.        
 
Cool clouds step over the portal    
to squeal more    
between the teeth of blood and shadow    
at the nutcracker of a sunrise of colors    
claw claw the drum head    
circle the eyes of the goddess    
and bend over backwards    
to the four seasons of reason.        
 
Calm back    
clouds    
with sober cheeks    
the trowel stretches its gray matter    
railing extended    
from right to left    
doing pastels 
with a crushed straw smile.        
 
Rebound stretch marks    
the dragon wakes up    
and offer their talents    
of a trumpeting speech   
hungry blue and red    
in the wake of the black bird
close the upturned belly ban    
without being offended by the addiction.        
 
Revered Sunrise    
elegant unfolding    
towards a bright day    
a flight of starlings leaves town    
to the arpeggios of a swig of white copper    
the milk waters the eyes that open    
the day breathes    
and that's fine.        
 
 
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