travels to warm a tired dog

viana do castelo

little Luci

it doesn't need a title

i don't know about 

the awareness of birds.

they seem ever alert

and resting in flight

how do they feel?

and how for me

could this distance

be a promiss

reaching the fields

in which i must walk

far from my love

who cannot come through

the masks and clothes

of this senseless loneliness?

down here where i found

and lost my heart

in the roads and rain

where we are lost

between shadows

or stand in neon light,

all seen in distortion,

longing changes into pain

when it was joy yesterday:

how,tell me, can i fly

and enjoy to look down

at all this tiny filth

and claustrophobic lice?

who will touch my heart

once i reach the clouds?

who knows that i want

to be held

when i touch the ground?

sinking into now