Sunday, January 1, 2012


Turning to look over the voice,
I lost and have not lost my face.
My memory was a single noise
inside of a deafening silence.

From the dying day, scarce a wink.
I put off my clothes on the brink,
and merged in the wakeless lake:
I wasn’t heavier than a shade.

We will only have been what leaves
without disturbing the still water,
we’ll be the envy of the leaves
that once on this mirror got carved.

The night reminded that the body
by dusk slowly entwines with darkness,
and the poets have long being singing
that a man is one of the shadows

from a dream. But in the bleak night
you gleamed with the radiation
of a black body, and I knew
that in fact a body is a pure

hybrid – between darkness and light.

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