Under the backs of reversed cockroaches
I seem to stand
I seem to dwell in armor of dinosaurs pierced by dawn
this dawn which appears.
But they are only sheds of abandoned factories
remained to mark a passage, a time;
the usual question of time which I can’t stop
I’m not saying forever, but if at least today.
if only I could extinguish myself
at least one hour, mine, adheres to yours
I’d wipe out the biggest disillusion by my illusion
which crossed the border between man and angel.
I tried to live with fury, even in abstinence,
and I still hope for a form of woman for my chaos,
but those buildings in tatters they told me that
and so I raise them to the skeleton of my love
the best monument to what will vaporize.
Poet of the Month April 2016
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