along the wall butterflies drag the drool of wind
above the city these men
crush in a dry mist
open luminous umbrellas
it is a sign they wish to speak, my dear ones
in the vanishing city
7
for a season of lethargy a season under the earth
under blankets of leaves a multicolored body
i dream a celestial sleep hanging bulbs
all of you ready to receive me
since everything must be decided
the moment we awake
// a.porta, excerpt from 'letters'
