O que eu imagino

Não tem forma
talvez isto, pura imagem
Não tem limite
e as cores se anulam
e viram corpo sem cor.

O que eu imagino
ainda, realmente,
não chegou.

Imagino você como pasta
sobremesa pegajosa
e rala.

Imagino-te como coisa
indiferente ao nome
que te resolve e
abarca,
ria.

Nada fácil.
Jogo de sedução.

O que acontece agora
exige pausa
E concentração.

Eu ostento
Este
Silêncio

e nele, Fico.
Este é meu dia.

Aqui ficar
até ver nítido
através do cigarro
A dureza de vosso corpo
em se aceitar
em Perdição.

Imagino uma revoada
(bela imagem)
A descrever a sua descrença
na possibilidade da vida
alheia ao conto de fadas.

Imagino uma vitamina de banana
sem canela
sem aveia
e sem nada
Só banana triste e
amassada.

Imagino uma fruta
tomando forma e caindo
do galho,

Você:
uma coisa
ainda não inventada
Moldada em tempos imemoriais
e atrasada

Quando você chega?














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o9lyt                                                                                                                                                                                                             56

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Bernardo, o Gato, deitou sobre o teclado.