mort mot juste

janeiro 13, 2009

ithaca, 1 a.m.

"what time is it
over here?"
i asked
and was brought back
to a land where it's still
summer in January
and green, and lush, and noisy
(with birds mostly)
and then i just felt so
dirty, like i was stealing hours
from innocent clocks.

i wrote this just to say;
you were in that question
and in that land

maria 4:28 AM 0 vociferando estavam



ao rés da fala