A WHITE LIE

I’m filling up with the sounds of the trains
of a silence beyond reach
and an unforgettable face.
I don’t know
where yesterday’s travelling came from.

I offer my voice
to the being of small specks of dust
and domesticated animals.
I give myself to the mirrors
and the reply is:
You don’t have a future.

Don’t come again
with the same ring in your steps.
I half-kill my admirers.
The half-living I throw to the worms.
The rest I keep for new crushes
and other betrayals.

The beaches are narrow.
I throw myself into side-roads.
It is the first time I see
such a clean mirror.

My admirers don’t think
I just pretend.

Two faces in every mirror.
Several persons in every face.
Most of my lovers
pass through the mirrors faceless.

.

.

.

I AM MORE THAN ME

It was I who opened the door,
and both my eyes.
It does not matter if I know,
from which window this
song comes.
It brought with it passed days,
images and events,
and with these an old scent.
I am more than me.
How much?
For what?
I feel sad.
I’m taking it easy.
I run again.
I go on strike.
Time is waiting for me.
I pick my eyelashes,
from the west wind.

The more women who come to pray,
the more sensual you become.
With two arms you brought me close.
With the other ones you made me abandon you.
Where are you going to put
all of these arms?