The morning after

my death

we will sit in the cafeterias

but I don't

I will be there

I will not be

*

It had been the great death of the birds

the moon was consumed with the

fire

the stars were visible

until noon

Green was the soaked forest

with shadows

the paths were winding

A redwood stood up

soa

with his slender, enlightened body

unable to follow the

cars they passed with

frenzy

A tree is always an immutable one

traveler

The moon darkened at dawn

the mound shuddered

with anticipation

and the ocean was in double shadow:

the blue of its surface with

blue of the flowers

mixed in horizontal waterways

there was a breeze to

witness the time.

*

The sun darkened in the

fifth hour of the

day

the beach was covered with

conversations

the hairs began to fall into the holes

and the waves came in like

horses.

*

The moon darkened on Christmas Eve

the angels ate lemons

in lighted churches

there was a blue carpet

planted with stars

over our heads

lemonade and war news

they competed for our attention

our breathing was warmer

with the hills.

*

There was a great slaughter of

spring leaf rocks

of streams

the stars showed completely

the last king of the hill

gave battle

and they killed him

We lay down on the grass

covered the dried blood with ours

bodies

the green leaves swayed between the

our teeth

*

We went out to sea

A bank of whales was heading to the

Sur

A young man among us a hero

tried to ride one of the carts

sea ​​creatures

his body emerged like a puddle of mud

like mud

we said goodbye to his remains

happy not to have to bury him

in the early hours of the day

We got drunk at a bar

the small town of Fairfax

he had just gone to bed

the cherries bent under the

weight of its flowers:

they were wrapped in a ceremonial

dance to which no one

he had never been invited.

*

I know the flowers to be funeral companions

they make poisons and poisons

and they eat abandoned stone walls

I know the flowers shine brighter

with the sun

its eclipse means the end of the

times

But I love flowers for their betrayal

their fragile bodies

they adorn the avenues of my imagination

without his presence

my mind would be a grave

unmarked

*

We encountered a great storm at sea

He looked back at them

rocky cliffs

the sand was sinking

black birds were

leaving

the storm ate friends and enemies

same as

water converted to salt for

my wounds

*

The flowers end in frozen patterns

the artificial gardens cover

the floors

we approached midnight

seek with powerful lights

the smallest shrubs of the

prairies

A stream runs desperately towards him

the ocean