*

the lance of the evening
a shadow in the cup
of the exiled centaur

the birth is hard
killing furious
or leaving granite traces
and cometary moss
on temples

again
we are a flow of feelings
among the stars

*

sheets in space
this spiral carbon
over life's whine
breaking the silence
of secular orbits

and maybe the evening
in the heart of the star's child
is just a story
in the planetary sigh

*

"be born, child,
and wait for
wonderful worlds
touching the billows
of your heart"

face to face

over the energetic lawns
the pirouette of the blood
wins