, , , , ,

Press your pen against your temple,

poised above the pages,

hang your heart out with the Gods,

meadow larks, mountains, and seas.

Give birth to ruins existing inside

where the deepest and darkest hide.

Let the falls flood your fears

and foam the roman fountains

into the  eyes of marble angels

across the turquoise ocean

beneath your golden palm.

Wipe grains of sand from

your vinho verde eyes.

Place your pen into the indigo and rest.



I saw an agnel in the marble