Tuesday, October 04, 2011

Back

Fair, hostile sky
grumble of wind

music wakes up,
miscommunicates

an umbrella of rain
splinters of silence

In the cramped cage
of childhood

My mothers already
see everything

_

No comments:

the three lessons

while I make myself legible to the world my body, who has only one owner  is learning to rebel  someone holds the book, another gets to ask ...