well everybody's world is another one so what to change?
you can not see things as they are just see them how you are
in fact you can not even see how they are
if any definition is just an approximation
or an alternation of the same thing

everything is a more or less a faithful translation
and the only performance in the field is love
yes love sees and feels "the same thing"
but it does not give you any explanation

it's a sublime free fall feels all like it's all
and not how it is

if you're realistic a moment you feel the way you are
without the impossible ambition to see the same thing
see love as a feast of unreality
which makes playing in another's skin a child's play
and a genius experience
to make it like the movies to be another being yourself

but to be realistic to the end is to give life the opportunity to be herself
to see for hereself to feel it all as it is
without interference in her internal affairs

the vanity of love is that it is a giveaway to likelyness
even beyond life but can not save the world
it can only make it better

let everybody's world be different
and that's the freedom
and that's all you can love

On some distant island
The fish swim –
In the air
And upside-down.
And they talk like people
And they talk unlike people
And they always look silly.
I’m sure of it.

I know because I want to know.

Has a curious vision-arrow ever glanced your eye,
Forsaking your pupil and enjoying your iris?
One or two have mine.
I think to the bowman always:

A black hole, and at least as complex,
But not a hole of darkness.
Nay, in my own, I see the fish.
An extravagant concavity that appears convex.

Eye – flipped funnel
Man – flipped funnel
The mind works like class notes,
Disheveled.

A realm of those aqueous creatures
Can’t be possible and
Must be possible because
I want it to be.

Even holes are filled with earth, air, ether
Even funnels.

Who is to tell me
That my fish can’t have their reality elsewhere?
Some infinite alternity where
Things go and are made
And holes, filled, are emptied?

Who to tell me?
A man who sees colors
To describe to a man who sees black
Some ethereal place
Which is neither black nor color?

No.

On some distant island,
The fish don’t fly –
They swim in the air.

I promise.