fragments returning through pairs
of cupped hands, from encounters
with words written vertically in a field;
green embraces glitter gently,
awaiting eyes somber and
irrevocably lost.

these abstract ciphers saw in half
tiny figures, and the intimacy they invite
in the dusk of the real is assembled
in the manufactured province of games,
of small hands.

we are by no means sound,
half buried in broken, naively rendered
landscapes. between water and sky,
the desperate, abject pathologies remain.
--

the complicated semantics
of fumbling words; a tear, an eye,
the structure of a hand inside
the decorative shock which forms him.

thought is pulverized.

the thin bond of calligraphic blows
that shapes his body reveals a window
into the futility of passing fancies,
the desire for dialogue smashed.