I like when he walks by my poems
he does it for years

I can see him passing through my door
every other day
Good Morning… I am here again…
to see your face of words!
to see how are you
to say i care

I had a book in my hands last night
in a thrust i stopped to read looking my fingers
they are so childish

as if the two rings never had existed before

So i gave to life

Hands and Faces

Hands and Faces

one more day

as He gave to  me …

waiting for my face of words

with  my  tireless childish hands

Tim Tim!!!!!

i pass along my lines
built with words …tortuous

not walking by… but as water in a pipe
that is how my nature goes by

i pass so so fluid that no one notice me
it is simply my way to be, or i try


put me to freeze, please …it is a Chablis

As I am  as liquid and a tube to conduct me
even when my words are crooked

so  it is that way that i write

maybe the way i am
so so sorry by … Mr and Ms …

i did not know, but i have to fade in that way
even when i have a feast on my table

and i did not know, but people have to celebrate

so ~ i sat down, alone~ with silver and crystal’s vision
pouring the white wine

to mix and make me alone
one time more

what a taste Mr.
What a flavour Ms.

So, so sorry


longinghe sit behind those windows
as a right ~minimal~

thinking Alone ~ exhausted~
gleaming as a solid  carved figure
so real ~so heavy ~
A silent message from a silhouette
intense and living

steps disturbing  his thought
far away….but coming

breaking  away the not shared  thoughts

~to search for  ~ a little of love~
a tactile hand paused on his head
fingers entwining the hair
a cozy breath a warm touch
a tender kiss on his back
another deep breath
fall apart  ~ the guaranteed silence~

he stands up ~knowing~

Economic Feelings
to the life

The Old Man

the angry man don’t say one single word
because has no one to hear him
maybe he don’t speak the vow  anymore
and simply gave up….

even the poets don’t remember to write about him
all pens fall in silence
all books are closed
in pages ~unfolding~  in blank

the effect  of so many desires…..

fall down the sheets from the shelf
they fly searching for others hands
to complete itself.. to write the verses
they missed the ink and the wet
needed for remembering

dropping in  autumn ~ as  petals  ~
felled by the indifference

~in response~

not even one sound…
when touching the ground

and as result….

the angry man old
slaughtered by the own silence

My salt lagoon!

my sweet lagoonshhhhh
do not leave the little box

or zipper or unzipped anything

no one needs knows that you are in love
almost in your done


if they want know how you love
all that strange way
with flags, jeeps, wild drinks

oh and the dances!!!
alone, the cuts, the slips
Oh! My
keep it on the box, well closed

the time pass by you but you still remain the same
dancing alone
bits and bites coming from the ligths

silence and long crash
sometime a howling
your eyes out of orbit

and the obscene things
from obscene book of love

perpetuating your one single lover
with salt  indecent  walls memory
~in your lonely lagoon~
sinked  in your  little box bit by bit
silent and determined

in a unimaginable silence