It was today
that I decided
to scratch the sky,
to turn the leaves
of the clouds,
to learn the language
of the tiny suns;
yes today I deposit
diamonds of silent voice
inside the cups of galaxies;
I want to pinch
the catastrophe of the heavens
and have all the nights
dance around my sudden life
like fierce nebulae of
nothings and everythings.
It dreams, sounds, quivers like a barrage
drenched in nostalgia these figuratively unknown
release the hungry words to pillage the earth out of its meaning
left with the questions that have already been answered by
above-the-clouds, silences-drawn-by-the-desert, light-colliding-water;
a definition that can be caressed and departed from
words that came so close to smelling of life
puny insignificancies that were almost a secret under the skin
my hand, these verbs and the kill
pogroms and a consequent silence
I surrender
due to bluest aim
as a truth that defeats
a heaven in me
The world is my excuse
for existing
things, events, voices, phenomena
expand before me
like leaves from a budding green
new and virgin patterns
buried in the dot
under the nose of my own consumption
untouchable heavens as the purity of my soul
the small lesser ground
that I call:
myself
and my world.
Beyond Language 
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