House Arrest

A forest of light,
A window half open on my heart.
Children beyond the times of childhood…

A coffee shop,
An innately blond man,
Streets,
A sky overwhelmed with the Lord’s abundance.
…And there is only one direction--
Towards the balconies of bourgeois laundry!

Do not reject me,
O gypsy touring in my soul’s herd
Towards the standstill city and the insincere.
Do not take care to hand me to the bells of pine trees,
So that you later cross me out
From your list of women and places.

O You, so full of contradictions,
Shaking the coma,
Oh You maneuvered between God and the rugged,
Oh You tall like palm trees, full of tone, and fruits:
Mend what was broken inside of me from goddess and rhyme,
Then throw me to the sidewalk of my poetry and the battle.
Glorify yourself from the inferno of my abyss or
Throw yourself to the dome of the uterus.

Accustom me to your sands so that I may walk through fires
Or else I must return…I fight…my daily…procrastinating…cancer…
Towards the balconies of bourgeois laundry.

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