Steps on grass,
my own true star
hanging from above like a
necklace to the night.

Grasshopper i am,
they are
Souls in cages made of clouds
a hundred thousand souls
pumping rain out of their cages
and onto our heads.

The prison camp
was
a mirror for the earth
i prayed aloud with
trembling words i wanted
to save the world
i wanted to save
myself.
high officials all reduced
to nothing, voiceless
and deaf
the lives they led
made no difference
no difference when the stars
began to fall

a myriad of deeds done
on solid ground
swallowed by the dirt
a hundred thousand prayers
of prisoners unheard

i try to save a friend
from a falling star
it hits her
and the sparks hit me
i'm blinded and my friend
can no longer cry for help.

i search for her
my hands cannot feel
so i cry over her
only a few dry tears
"my friend is dead,
everybody else's friends
are dead."

my mother passed away
of fear,
my father felt defeated
then closed his eyes for good
my brother was the drop
of life the heat of stars dried out,
along with my tears
and the ocean
and the rivers.


all there is and all there ever was
burns and the fire is blue and
three hundred and thirty three
miles tall
the Ear that used to hear us
sleeps

the angels topple
like birds
in hunting season, mangled
they try to bury
each body in a grave of oblivion
and holiness,
from my own grave i warn
their sacred hands

if you touch my father
the gods will punish you
you cannot bury my father
he is made of gold metal,
he is made of gold metal,
he is made of gold.

blue eyes sadder than the ocean, god knows i'll miss
every word of hate that never meant a thing
how long until the strap gives?
you're dying and away from home
your poor attempt to repair the damage is me
human bodies are temporary, i know you'll be fine
wherever

trapped inside the coil the drops i cry are made of sea
did i bring you back to life? now you're a fish and you're free
anything that happens after you swim away
will just be breeze and i promise
i'll take the summer in.

[21/12/2005]

passei por uma porta no deserto e lá estava o meu soldado ferido.
1- sonhos bons pra mim são feitos de:
era meu porque afinal de contas fui eu que o achei, com um tiro na barriga.
2- capacetes não protegem o abdômen. principalmente aqueles camuflados de verde.
os acontecimentos que se seguiram eram água azul, cheia de luzes vindas de baixo.
3- o meu soldado deve ter morrido sem nunca mais ver uma gota d'água, sobre seu elefante.
4- estranho ele ter arrumado um elefante rapidamente, com os meus rabiscos já pelo corpo todo e a maior parte do sangue do lado de fora.
->hino do soldado ferido. era um poema bonito, que ele aprovou sorrindo.
quando eu passei a amar o soldado tive que ir embora e deixá-lo morrer sozinho com o elefante.
5- jovens gostam de histórias.
6- soldados gostam de epitáfios.
como eu me meti no deserto.
?
7- procurar coisas e encontrar soldados.
8- os soldados de chumbo do meu irmão pequeno saltando histérico do sofá.
aquele filho que eu ia ter se pudesse.
9- 10- areia às vezes é colorida de vermelho, verde, azul. às vezes se parece com o muro de berlin.
onze. estou sozinha no aeroporto e esqueci de devolver o seu casaco.
-> um casaco é uma farda de outra cor.
12.13. usar botas no deserto não sei pra quê serve.
esquece.
²¹³¹ me apaixonei quinze vezes mas na hora da morte esqueço os nomes.
(consideração) tartarugas são capacetes ambulantes. sinto falta de um amigo. enterrei-o na areia.
14.5- o vento desenterrou o meu amigo.