The Open Night3 December 2019
I feel myself in the open night
Planting woad and chicory,
They are familiar with each other’s ways
You, this forgotten shadow,
That rests in a flowering memory
Is the kiss of root and berry.
Because they muttered words;
Language mixed with libido
I’m unable to see you closely:
These shadows in the thunderbolts
Beckon in full bloom.
Growing rare in the torment
Now living, loving, spent.
We are born, forever in the shadows.