Traveling at night

 

 

A black umbrella
my sky
The moon
another street-lamp
Sleeping houses
populate my horizon
Following the curvature of a continent
the window is my pillow
My eyes
magnets attracting
the elements of the unknown.
If the clouds
scatter and break the sky asunder
into a thousand little islands,
If on top of trees
the world below would not be so strange
I would visit every cumulus bay
every rising branch…
How far must a man go
to find out what he seeks?

The Perfect Death

 

Sleep is the perfect death
How I enjoy to fall asleep
‘Tis as-I-leap and fall
into that gentle abyss
So gentle a Death
that it does not kill me
for I still am
        yet I know not
                     where