i couldn't sleep until sunday:
these crocodiled dreams
e minha medida
measure life on earth
i saw those white crosses stuck
in front of bay views and it smells sweet,
a madrugada sunflower.
some rainbow serpant deity hums behind me and chucks a mango to the sea
and i walk with the skinny yellow light etched sideways between dripping waterfallen trees
the space between green
and those sad eyed leaves
illustrate each other
those ghosts- i opened the white shutters to the window of salvador
and felt those souls bend down the hills.
all after a bright night lamp burning my knees whispering to him into the hot cracks of my bed:
i saw them all, human beautiful hairy and naked waiting to be set free
then me,
wondering if my shadow is lighter than others
watching a black haired angel dangle her feet over the sunsetting water
as the wind fish skip to a million guitar chorded sighs
a cat has been crying all night to the creeping bixo vines
like the young laughter outside a few yesterdays ago
define each other
lao tzu murakami ginsberg mind song
harmonizes einsteins dreamland with my mantra to be
before those ghosts were there.
and then somewhere, dimension three maybe,
that hip dance down the street winding through a swelling morning
i let them out but with moonlight in my arches
so we could be together
the angelic egyptian plover bird of the madrugada
together we all arched our back to the ocean's turn
and let the foam of our sweet saudade saddened lives fall
to a sleep in the sand
com certeza bomfim smiles to my future orixa:
oracles invisible dance in drunken bullet wounded legs lying lovely together
while the sugar night rain beats my heart to keep
swimming sonhos forever
