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comic poem







today, the international day of days
i'm here breathing my phrases
soon it'll be night with no moon
but the word will float

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of our chance meeting
now only dust and smoke
that musk-smelling steam
luck the recurring cause

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the day after tomorrow
- somewhere in that day
at some insignificant, mad
wounded moment
everything will be perfect

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you, dora, gold

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the suicide
that doen't succeed
saves a precious life

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inside the moment:
when i wasn't here
i was coming

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we're the bullies, nuts
but no injection or massage
for us

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the sad truth is the human being

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vamos conversar sobre o tempo
chuva areia poeira -
é disso que nós falamos de novo:
do tempo e de uma vida inteira

comic poem







inside my sweet soul
there's a violent punker holding on
but the time stream is quite confusing
but this silence is so warm and cozy

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when people walk out of the cinema as shadows
their enlarged image always becomes an abstract

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my summer was cold fury in all shades of green
in flowers and shapes and infections
with many adventures to tell

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‘lovely view’ said the old woman
still blooming in her garden
'the nerve shots are amazingly painful
in this nice scenery'

comic poem






at the dinner rehearsal:
doodles, faces, words, a river
finger pan, car pressure, closed walls
and the bill - let it get old and vanish

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