“I am with you

and my dogs and I are proletariats”

“inhaling gently a cigarette (in a mirror”

the boyish creature asked IF

if I was going north

through the dream of those who care about

about a brisk wind and waters from sky

the muse was resting

and there was only a TV

only a TV

a TV

set to the world

I watched the

the chamber providing

providing statements of welfare and of

and of

and of

CAPITALS

The gentle silhouette of the

of the smoking beggar

reprimanding the status-quo

guilty, I said

guilty, I said

I said

on the screen

there is a running sports´ TRUTH

a pair of NIKEs made in Palestine

throwing stones and basket balls

(3 points construe about priceless empires

and of

and of the whiteness of the things with a price)

–  the sweat of teenagers

on the skin of a poem

everything is a Bank

and its logo with a SWAN

and those

those

commercials which fool

you

you and the paradise

digesting

cellulosic deceptions

Utopia is a village in the coast of Alentejo

and from the shore

(there is still a shore)

and from the shore

a fire signals the hemisphere of

ABSURDITY

while widows of the fisherman in black

repose their hand on the curls of their children

with green eyes pondering

pondering about literal algae

and the UNIVERSE

this made me swear for the people

“I am with you

and my dogs and I are proletariats”

proletariats manufacturing poems

for you

for you to lick

the sweat on her skin

the skin written with the words

CAPITALS’ TRUTH and

and the NIKEs’ SWANS and

and the ABSURDITY of the UNIVERSE

of the

of the

he is gently peeling (in a mirror…

 

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