There heated up
The sight,
A pit lures, drags, with thoughts
beautifully by elegance perverted,
The rain my own furnace,
That I make it do of it itself,
That I make it be then of myself.
I choose to dance without body
Yet to make steps in dark in negation,
Observation, a true rascal-ification,
In other words: notes of silence resounding.
Moment the floor,
Heartbeats for the feet.
Air-tight bubbles for the breath.
Minstrel of Utopias I’ll become,
Standing as Ellipsis I’ll be intact,
And I’ll see as the end shall come
Through tears burning from
Nothingness of clouds.
I choose to gleam in
Eyes of half-liddance
And what is done of their feverish?
Sweat’s going out from the fascinating,
The chest is being opened to feel
how hot is the cardiac muscle
And love is made to its battles,
In the dark of the Day,
As you wish,
Or in the lightness of the Night.
You don’t tell reason, the right,
There is sound in feather’s flight
A trial in scarlet darkness of
music sonorous in mind,
Trying to capture my vivid beat in melody,
While dancing glory in pencil gold hair
In the pit of thoughts in Me.
In lush green of cigarette Italian book-like.
Prima, Prova.
First, Trial/
Earlier, Try.
