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baby poem

no recolhimento da escuridão e pedem
quando a noite drifts ao longo das ruas da cidade
um poeta, fazendo exame do breio fora de sua lingüeta
as canções velhas
o mistério o mais escuro, o mais estranho
são idos os três, aquelas irmãs raras
não pendure nenhuma grinalda
escute o mar soando
esta bacia de prata antiga de meus
melancolia, azul era
pôde tê-lo sabido na mola mais adiantada

 



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