torches
your hands

touches .... flames

you magician
your fingers

hot
secrets

flaring
........flowers
..............heat

- will I burn
....one day
......in the hell

for these burning
nights

.......in the heaven
?

FIGURES

greasy voices
    moaning about
        a bunch of regrettable byes

inventory of recollections
  assaulting on the poet's eyes
       one private
       two painful
       three neglegible

the empty canvas is impregnated with
  façades   fallacies   fakes
       one sweet-tasting image
       two solvable metaphors
       three always tired hints

thirsty
  the cheapest surrealist poem
   cries out for the invisible
   f  i  n  g  e  r  s

that
                (it) can never

                              touch

Poetry Magazine